The Swear Jar
by Romantique The Original
Summary: Raylan is a new dad. Takes place sometime after the end of Season 3. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery' and 'Fever Dream.'
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Swear Jar 1/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Gayle's House_

"You know how much I_ hate_ to ask you to do this," Winona whined, out of breath and out of patience. She handed Raylan the baby, "But shit, I _have_ to go."

"You owe a dollar to the Swear Jar," Raylan informed her, trying to contain his delight, as he carefully took his sleeping infant daughter into his arms.

He was typically the one who was called out for his colorful language. Indeed, he had made a sizeable contribution to the Swear Jar ... enough to make a dent in his daughter's college fund, the intended use of the jar's contents.

"You don't need to worry. We're gonna be just fine," he said in a calm, reassuring voice. "And besides, she mostly sleeps."

As if Raylan had flipped a switch, Winona vehemently began to shake her head. "This isn't going to work." And she reached out to take the babe back.

Somewhat offended, Raylan flashed a pained looked at Winona. His response was to turn on his heel, so that the baby was well out of her reach. "What did I do?"

Winona suddenly looked like she wanted to cry.

"No, she doesn't just sleep," she explained. "There is so much more to taking care of an infant than that. You're much too casual about the whole thing."

Winona Hawkins was no more hormonal than the average new mother, but leaving her little one for the first time was truly taking its toll.

"I've kept her before," Raylan continued to speak in a quiet, low voice. "You said I did just fine."

"Well, you did," she acquiesced. "I was nearby ... and Gayle was around. But now, ..."

She nervously raked her fingers through her hair. Winona was referring to the fact that Gayle was on vacation, in Yellowstone, with her husband and kids. Raylan agreed to watch the baby at Gayle's house and not in his room over the bar. They all agreed his place was no place for a baby.

In a huff, she suddenly asked while pacing, "Hell, what are you going to do if she's too warm in the middle of the night?"

As much as Raylan wanted to tell Winona to put another buck in the Swear Jar, he thought it best not to mention it just now. Instead, he very calmly answered, "I'd cool her off with a wet cloth. If that didn't work pretty fast, we'd get in my car and drive to the Emergency Room." He looked at her with raised eyebrows, awaiting her response. "I'd get us there faster than an ambulance."

Hanging onto his every word, she nodded.

"Good answer." Then, she paused, deep in thought. "Okay, what would you do if Art called and told you he needed you, right away?"

"I'm scheduled off, takin' care of my baby," Raylan answered in the same, even tone. "And I'd tell him he needs to call in someone else. I'm not the only marshal in Lexington."

Her mind was still racing, as she continued pacing the floor. She next asked, "What would you do if you run out of breast milk?" Then, under her breath, she said, "Although I don't know how you could. I've been pumping extra for more than a week." Trying not to sound like a total nut job, after a beat, she explained, "I mean, what if the power goes out, and you can't keep the milk cold? And it all goes bad? And the baby doesn't have anything to eat?"

"I'd go to the Mini Mart and buy some ice and put it in a cooler," he said without missing a beat. "But if she needed you ... or if you needed her? I'd bring her to you."

"You would bring her to me?" she asked, touched by what he said.

Raylan took in a deep breath and exhaled. "We could _all_ go to Bowlin' Green? Then, that way, you could see her at night," he offered. After a beat, he continued, "You do know there's no rush for you to go back to work. Right? If you want to put this seminar off altogether, or stay home with her for a while. Be a mom. You're free to do whatever you want. No pressure."

"You would do that, wouldn't you?" she smiled. "Go to the seminar with me."

"You know I would," he smiled his most charming Raylan smile.

Although they weren't a couple anymore, they were raising a child together. And at times, Winona was reminded that she loved him so much ... at times like this. And it scared her.

She smiled back at him. All the stress in her face dissipated.

A sighed escaped her. "I need to do this," she said, more to herself than to him. "I need the Continuing Ed credits, and this is the easiest way to keep up my certification. I don't know when I'll go back to work, but whenever I do ... I'll be ready."

This was Winona's way of maintaining control. It would be too easy to cave and let Raylan take care of her. But that would mean relinquishing control over to him, and that was something she was not willing to do.

Raylan leaned down and kissed Winona on the top of the head.

"Well, the offer's there," he said. "Should you change your mind? You're only three hours away."

She gave his arm a squeeze.

"Thank you," she said, "for understanding."

"You're welcome," he said.

And he watched Winona walk out the door and leave him alone, for four days, with Miss Caitlyn Grace.

_Several hours later ..._

The day had been easy. Taking care of Cait was a piece of cake. Raylan couldn't help but think that his calm, relaxed style made for a calm, relaxed baby. Not that he was knocking Winona, but she had been wound up a little tighter than usual since the baby was born.

He fed the babe and changed her diaper a couple of times. Now two-months-old, Cait was able to stay awake for longer and longer periods of time. He noticed her neck muscles were getting stronger and stronger. And in her flailing, she was now reaching up as if to grab his hand.

The highlight of his day was when he was on the receiving end of a beautiful toothless grin. This was a first for him. He smiled back at her.

"Did you just do what I think you did?" he asked, thinking maybe it was just gas.

That's what he'd been told by Winona and her sister for the past month ... that all her little _'smiles'_ were nothing more than a little gas.

Then, she did it again.

"Awww. Bull. That's not gas, is it Cait?" he smiled back at her. "And don't tell your momma I said _'bull.'_ I'm fresh out of ones, and I could have said a lot worse. I'm tryin' to do better."

Sitting in the recliner with his knees bent up, the baby was cradled upright on his thighs. He offered a finger to Cait's hand, and she grasped it. And then, she smiled at him, again.

"You know you're meltin' your daddy's heart, don't you?" he confided. "Is that your super power? I think you get that from me. I have ninja skills, and you have a smile that can melt the hearts of mortal men."

And again, baby Cait gave her daddy a big smile.

Raylan took a good look at her. She was tall for a baby, in the 75th percentile on height. She certainly didn't get that from her petite momma. And her hair was blonde. He had blond hair until he was a teenager, and then, it turned dark. Winona decided Caitlyn had his hair and his height, but she definitely had her momma's face and her big blue eyes. Winona warned him that her eyes may change color, but he didn't think they would.

"Yeah, you're pretty, just like your momma," he said. "Boy am I gonna be in trouble."

He was referring to chasing away the boys in the future. His concern was met with a little yawn.

"How would you like to watch your first Wild Cat game with your old dad?" he asked, as he reached over to grab the remote control from the end table. "As a child of mine, you will root for the Blue and White of the U of Kentucky. Yay."

And he shook his index finger, with her tiny fingers still wrapped around it, as if he was helping her shake a pom pom. She yawned again. Then, he picked her up and laid her down, tummy side down, on top of his chest. He kissed her soft head that smelled of baby shampoo, and he gently rubbed her back with his fingertips. Her little body rose and fell with his chest, each time he inhaled, exhaled. After a time, his breathing was in a steady rhythm. She was snuggled up, close to her daddy's heartbeat. And in no time, Cait was fast asleep.

Raylan Givens was as content as he had been in quite some time. Off from work, he was watching a Wild Cats game with his new _'best girl'_ fast asleep on his chest. He was in love with his little girl. In the short time since she entered the world, she had changed his life. Suddenly, he had a new reason to get up in the morning, something new to work towards. It was his job to take care of her, to protect her, to love her. It was a job he relished. She brought her parents to a place where they had to get along and work together. He didn't worry about Winona picking up and disappearing again. She swore to him she would never leave with Caitlyn. Even Gayle made a point to assure him that Winona was not going anywhere. The sisters had a long talk about how the baby needed both her parents; it was her birthright to have both her mother and her father in her life.

Suddenly, the cell phone on the end table was buzzing. Raylan picked it up and looked at the screen.

"Hey," Raylan smiled, speaking softly so as not to wake Cait. "How's it goin'? Are you all checked in?"

"I'm down here in the restaurant having a second beer with a fish taco," Winona happily reported.

Drinking was not something she could easily do while breast feeding or pumping, not without timing it out just so. Tonight, she could just relax and think only of herself.

"Good for you," he said. "Cait and I are watchin' a Wild Cats game."

"Yeah, the game's on here, too," she reported, as she looked up at the big screen. "Is she being good for you?"

"She's a doll," he reported. "I've been keepin' her fed and dry and loved."

"Are you telling her stories?" she asked in a light tone. "I know you are because that's what you do. Promise me you won't tell her the gruesome ones."

"I promise," he said. "I save the gruesome ones for you and you alone."

"Gee, thanks," she laughed.

"How are you doin', Winona?" he asked with great sincerity.

She shifted her weight further into the booth.

"I'm tired," she said. "As much as I love my baby girl, and you know I do ... I'm wiped out. I'm going to eat some dinner and go back to my room. It's only 7:30, and I'm ready for bed."

"You could use some _'you time,'_ he concurred. "Just relax after your classes. Take it easy and take care of yourself. Go get a massage or have your nails done. Do it on me," he offered. "You deserve to pamper yourself a little."

"Thank you," she said, sounding very touched. "I might take you up on that."

"I wish you would," he said in all sincerity.

"Well, I'm gonna let you go," she said. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will," he promised. "You know you can do the same. Call me tomorrow night. G'night, Winona."

After he disconnected the call, he went back to quietly watching the game, although he dozed off sometime during the 3rd quarter. He was awakened sometime later by a tiny little whimper. He glanced at his watch. It was almost 3 a.m. He picked up Cait and carried her into Winona's bedroom where he changed her wet diaper. Then, he carried her into the kitchen, heated up a bottle, and took her back into the bedroom where he fed her. Her eyes were heavy while she was feeding. After she finished the few ounces of milk, Raylan threw a cloth diaper over his shoulder and patted her back until she burped.

She was ready to go back to sleep, and he placed her in the bassinette next to the bed. Then, he crawled into bed and dimmed the light. Father and daughter were both out in about 30 seconds flat.

_(To be continued ...)_


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Swear Jar 2/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_The next morning ..._

Baby Caitlyn awoke at about 6:30 a.m. needing to be fed. After a bottle and a diaper change, Raylan was able to rock her back to sleep in no time. He also returned to bed for a few more winks.

A couple of hours later, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket, as he had fallen asleep in his clothes.

He quickly glanced at the screen and answered, "Givens."

"Raylan?" Art Mullens began. "I need to inform you that Arlo escaped from prison early this morning."

Before Raylan could give Art any guff for bringing up his old man's name, Art quickly added, "You are his next of kin."

"Escaped?" Raylan asked, as he sat upright in bed. "Well, shit," he exclaimed, as he raked his fingers through his hair. "Are you lookin' for Boyd?"

Boyd Crowder was the first thing that came to Raylan's mind upon hearing this news. He honestly didn't know if he was more pissed off at Arlo or at Boyd. Then, he decided he was more pissed at Boyd because Arlo wouldn't have the smarts to pull something like this off.

"We're on it," Art said. "I just thought you'd like to come down here. You know, wait here to be up on the latest."

"I've got the baby, today," he admitted. "Can't I be up on the latest where I am?"

Art was a little perplexed. While he knew Raylan couldn't care less about this father, usually the mention of picking up Boyd Crowder on criminal charges got more a rise out of him.

Catching his boss's awkward silence, Raylan further explained, "I'm over at Gayle's, Winona's sister's house. They're all out of town, and I'm takin' care of my daughter."

"You mean Winona's gone, too?" Art asked.

Raylan exhaled. "She's gone to Bowlin' Green pickin' up some Continuin' Ed credits for her court reportin' certification."

"Oh," Art uttered, finally tracking with his marshal. "Well, I guess you could bring the little one here. Maybe you could talk Rachael or Tim into helpin' you to keep an eye on her?"

Raylan thought about it for few beats. "Give me about half an hour."

And he disconnected the call. He looked over and down into the bassinette. Cait was still sleeping. He made a b-line into the bathroom and took one of the fastest showers he'd ever taken in his life. Afterwards, dressed with hair still damp, he quickly packed the diaper bag and went to the kitchen, where he grabbed a 6-pack of prepared breast milk from the freezer, along with an ice pack, a couple of water bottles, and some sterilized baby bottles. Last but not least, he changed Cait's diaper. Although the messy ones were his least favorite, he thought at least it was less likely the next one would be anything but a wet one.

He then grabbed his phone and his car keys and the base of the carseat. Upon passing the _Swear Jar_, he said, "Yeah, I owe you one for that _'shit'_ that slipped out to Art. I'll catch you later."

Raylan quickly ran out to the driveway and strapped the carseat base into the backseat of his car. Taking a quick inventory in his mind, he next went back in the house to the bassinette. He gently placed his slumbering Cait into her infant car seat and grabbed the diaper bag. Only a few minutes later, she was strapped securely in place, and they were ready to go.

_The Lexington Office ..._

About 45 minutes later, Raylan sauntered into the Marshals Office with Caitlyn in her car seat gently swinging from his one hand and the diaper bag strapped around his other shoulder. As he approached Art's office, he noticed his team was in the glass conference room.

"C'mon in," Art waved his marshal in.

Tim and Rachael were already seated at the conference table with file folders spread out over one end.

"Oh, let me see her," Rachael smiled, as she stood up from her chair.

Peeking into the infant seat, Caitlyn's arms were by her side, her tiny hands clenched in fists. Raylan pulled the handle of the seat around and propped the seat up on top of the conference table next to where Rachael was seated.

Then, the baby's arms flailed in excitment, and she gave Rachael a toothless grin.

Rachael smiled in delight. "She's an angel," she softly said, maintaining eye contact with the babe.

Tim leaned over.

"Looks nothing like you," he observed and reported to Raylan. "Good thing, too. You'd make one ugly girl."

Raylan nodded in agreement.

"I hate to break this little visit up," Art bellowed, "but we need to continue."

The sound of his loud voice startled Cait, and she began to whimper.

"Nice going," Tim quipped to his boss. "You often have that same affect on me."

Rachael reached into the carrier, unlocked the restraint and picked up Cait. Raylan was quick to place a diaper over her shoulder before she pulled the babe in closer ... just in case.

"Shhhhhh," Rachael whispered into Cait's ear, as she patted her back to soothe her.

"Oh, Jeez," Art said, this time in a much softer tone. "I didn't mean to make her cry."

"If you swear or curse in Caitlyn's presence again, you owe her _Swear Jar_ a dollar," Raylan informed Art, as well as Tim. "Not my rule, it's Winona's. Although, I must say ... Cait's got quite the college fund goin'."

"I can't curse in front of a two-month-old baby?" Tim asked in astonishment.

Then, the sharp shooter immediately dug his wallet out of his back pocket, pulled out a twenty, and handed it to Raylan.

"Here," Tim said. "I can't handle the pressure. I'd rather be ahead of the game. Now, I've got 20 slip ups covered, in advance."

Raylan kindly transferred the money into his wallet.

"That's a good strategy," Raylan remarked. "I should probably go to that payment plan myself."

Now that the baby was calmed down in Rachael's arms, Art took the opportunity to proceed.

"Can we get started now?" he asked. Not waiting for an answer, he continued. "Boyd Crowder has been staying over at your father's Indian Line house with Ava," he reported, glancing over at Raylan. "Since the new Harlan sheriff is a wild card, in terms of his loyalties to Crowder, I'd like you to go over there, Raylan, with Tim to see what you can find out. A State Trooper car will meet you there. If Arlo is there, they have a vested interest in seeing that he goes directly back to prison. You and Tim can transport him. That way, we've got jurisdiction covered. Arlo's escape is a State matter for now, not a local one. We're there to assist the Troopers."

Raylan nodded. He didn't want to go, but he would be the logical one to see if Boyd knew anything or was telling the truth. He glanced over at Rachael.

"Would you watch Cait while I'm gone?" he asked.

"I would if I could," she said, "but I have to go Trumbull for a prison transport."

Art winced, looking at Raylan. "I'm sorry. I forgot Rachael's had this scheduled for a couple of days."

"Well, what about you?" Raylan asked. "Would you come along with me? And maybe Tim could watch her until we get back?"

Tim interjected, holding up his hands as if he was surrendering. "Oh, no. I know nothing about babies."

Raylan then flashed a look back at Art.

"Well don't look at me," Art defensively shot back. "I'm riding to Trumbull with Rachael. I don't want her going without backup. And besides, Crowder is less likely to be candid if I'm there."

"Well, shit," Raylan hissed, with his hands on his hips.

"That's a dollar for Caitlyn's _Swear Jar_," Rachael gently reminded him.

"Aw, hell, I already owe one from this morning," Raylan admitted.

"That's two more," Tim chimed in.

"I'll stop by an ATM on my way home and pull out some twenties," Raylan caved. "I think I'd better start payin' up in advance, too."

"What are you going to do with Caitlyn?" Rachael asked, gently placing the baby back in her seat. "You can't take her to Harlan."

"Ohhhh, no," Raylan shook his head with a sullen look on his face. "You are right about that."

Art stood and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "What _are_ you gonna do?"

Raylan thought for a moment. "Let me make some phone calls, and I'll let you know."

_Enroute to Harlan ..._

Raylan drove his Lincoln with Cait in her carseat and Tim up front, but first, he had a stop to make.

"You were lucky she was home," Tim commented.

Raylan gave an obligatory nod. He was deep in thought, thinking that Winona would chap his hide if she knew what he was about to do. He decided then and there she would never find out.

He soon reached his destination and drove up into the driveway. Tim waited in the car, while Raylan retrieved Cait in her infant seat, along with her diaper bag. He pulled the hood down over the basket, to shade his baby's eyes from the bright morning son. Before he made it up to the entry of the house, Loretta McCready opened the front door.

"Marshall," she acknowledged his presence. "So, this is yours? I didn't even realize you were married much less had a new baby."

"I'm not," he corrected her. "Can we go inside?"

Loretta opened the door wider to give him access. Dressed like she always was, in jeans and a t-shirt, she looked about the same as the last time Raylan saw her.

"Where's your foster mom?" Raylan asked, immediately noting how quiet the home was.

Typically, there were children running all over the place.

"She had an appointment in Lexington. The kids are in school. She'll be back this afternoon," Loretta reported in her characterstic flat voice that was void of any emotion, as she crept forward to take a peek at the baby. "She's cute."

"Thanks," Raylan said, and he sat down to scribble down some instructions with Caitlyn on the floor near his feet. "I'm lucky you're not, but why aren't you in school today?" he asked, looking up at her out of the corner of his eye and sounding rather fatherly.

She answered in a flip tone, "I'm doing the Internet Academy this year."

Raylan furrowed his brow and narroed his eyes, not knowing whether to believe her or not.

"Well, I appreciate you doin' this for me," he said, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, as he placed his baby's infant seat up on the kitchen table. "I was really in a bind."

"Try not make it a habit, Marshal, but I do owe you," she said.

Then, she threw Raylan a bone.

"You don't need to worry, either. I'll take real good care of her," she said, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Who's owns the new Jetta out in front of the house?" he asked, completely changing the subject.

Knowing it probably wasn't a good idea to lie to a Federal marshal, she admitted, "It's mine. I'm allowed a car, money for insurance, and an allowance until I graduate from college."

Loretta's money was set up into a trust. It was Raylan who helped set that up for her, so that she would not foolishly go through all her money or be taken advantage of. It also paid her foster parents a monthly stipend, in addition to the funds they received from the County for her care, making for a much nicer homelife for the girl.

"It's a nice, safe car," he said, giving his approval. "But please _do not ever_ take my baby ridin' in your car. She's to stay right here until I get back ... which shouldn't be but a couple of hours."

He walked over to Loretta and handed her his list of instructions.

"I just changed and fed her," he said. "She should be good for a couple of hours ... about the time I return. Her feeding schedule's all spelled out here, along with my numbers to reach me. In the diaper bag is a pacifier and just about anything else you could possibly need."

"We'll be fine," Loretta said flatly, yet trying to reassure the apprehensive new father. "You're new at this. It shows."

Raising his eyebrows, he responded with, "And you're not?"

She gave a little chuckle. "I've changed my share of diapers, fed my share of babies," she tried to reassure him.

He tipped his Stetson to her. "That's good 'cause I'm countin' on it."

He walked over to the kitchen table and gently kissed his baby girl goodbye on her forehead.

_(To be continued ...)_


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Swear Jar 3/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

Once back inside the Lincoln, Raylan continued the drive out to Harlan with Tim riding shotgun. He was unusually quiet, especially for Raylan.

After some time riding in the deafening silence, Tim finally interrupted it, deciding he'd bite.

"How are you doing over there?" he asked.

"Oh, I dunno," Raylan sighed. "Winona's gonna kill me if she finds out I didn't stay at the house with Cait like I promised her I would."

Tim leaned back into car seat in an attempt to stretch a cramp out of his calf. He couldn't help but think he should have gotten out of the car when Raylan dropped of Caitlyn and walk for a bit.

"Well, maybe she doesn't have to find out," he suggested.

Tipping his hat back with one hand, eyes still on the road, Raylan said, "That's kinda what I was thinkin'." After a beat, he continued, "She'd also kill me if she found out I was goin' to Harlan."

"That's your job," Tim huffed, with not much sympathy on that one. "She can't expect you not to do your job."

Raylan glanced over at his partner.

"And yet, she does," he nodded.

"I don't understand," Tim prodded. "You're not together anymore, are you?" His tone suddenly changed from one of stating a fact to asking a question.

"It's really different now," he tried to explain. "We're _'together'_ raisin' this baby for the next 18 years. Whether she and I are together or not is irrelevant."

"Well, if it's any consolation, you have practically the whole Lexington Marshal's office who witnessed what went down," Tim recanted. "Not that I wish to be involved in any of your domestic discord, or whatever you call it." After a beat, he said, "What I'm trying to say, Raylan is ... grow a pair."

Raylan's eyes narrowed at the slight, and he smirked. "Say what?"

Continuing with his bravado, Tim said, "Winona is a little bitty thing. Why are you always so afraid of what she's going to do? My God, Raylan. You are a U.S. Deputy Marshal!"

Raylan let out a courtesy laugh. "What are you suggestin' I do? Physically overpower her because I'm bigger than her?"

Tim crossed his arms in front of him. "I've heard you skillfully go toe to toe with Art, with prisoners, judges, the Feebs and Justice, with me," he rattled them off the top of his head. "Your gift of gab is legendary, and I'll have you know, I'm certainly no pushover. And yet, when it comes to Winona, you're a ..."

"I'm a what?" Raylan cut him off.

"You're a wuss. There. I said it," Tim declared. "It's demoralizing to watch you transform into a quivering mass of Jell-O every time she challenges you."

Insulted, yet trying to maintain control behind the wheel of the car, Raylan huffed, "Don't let me hold you back, Tim!"

"Sorry for the tough love, but someone's gotta snap you out of this self-doubt, self-loathing thing you do to yourself whenever you and your old lady are at odds," Tim explained himself. "It's like Dr. Phil would ask, what you're doing ... is it working for you? Because I don't think it is."

"You watch Dr. Phil?" Raylan was astounded, changing the subject.

Tim nodded. "Yeah, I tape his show. Never miss it."

Raylan was pissed and insulted. Hardly believing he was sitting in the car with an Iraqi war veteran sharp shooting specialist and being criticized for his relationship with Winona by the likes of Dr. Phil, Raylan tried to wrap his mind around the irony of this situation.

Feeling the frosty air in the cab of the car, Tim gingerly continued.

"Look," he sounded conciliatory, "I know she left you ... twice. And I understand how that could hurt a guy. But you've got this baby now, and under the law, she can't just pick up and leave again. You know what I mean?" He stated the obvious, "Caitlyn is the best thing that could ever happen to you and Winona. If you want to remain tied to her, you are. And maybe having Caitlyn was Winona's way of remaining tied to you."

Raylan listened to him.

"Ya' think?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do," Tim nodded. "You just need to chill where she's concerned and live your life and stop apologizing for it. I mean, you're doing your job, Raylan. You're not doing anything illegal or immoral. And it's not like you became a marshal after you met her."

"I know," he said. Then, he explained, "It's specifically Harlan she has a problem with, and my occasional recklessness which, I have been better since gettin' shot."

"You have been better," Tim acknowledged. "You're wearing your vest, bringing backup. Hell, you haven't been written up in months, now."

"It is a record," Raylan agreed.

Now entering Harlan, Raylan said, "We better shelf this for now. We've got work to do."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Pulling up onto the street in front of his Aunt Helen's old house, Raylan and Tim exited the car and walked over to speak with the two Troopers who were parked on the street right in front of them. Then, Raylan opened the trunk of the Lincoln, and he and Tim pulled out their Kevlar vest and put them on. Tim also pulled out his rifle with the scope and found himself a position to cover his partner as Raylan, alone, walked up the driveway.

A quick review of the house showed it appeared to be in far better repair than the last time Raylan had seen it. He was met at the screen door by Ava Crowder. She was standing there, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, hair and makeup done, but she still had her house slippers on.

"He's here," she said, but that was all she said.

"Who?" Raylan asked, approaching her.

"Arlo," she answered without missing a beat.

Raylan's face reflected his surprise. He could tell by the look in her eyes that Ava was telling the truth, that she was concerned. Having once been her lover, he had an insight into this woman that even her recently rumored crime spree couldn't hide. And he suspected she had the same insight into him. He reached out to steady her by holding her arm.

"Can we go inside?" he asked.

"Yeah, c'mon in," she said, holding the screen door open for him.

Raylan turned to the street and signaled that everything was okay, and then, he went inside the house. He didn't see anyone inside.

"Arlo's in bed," she explained. "He was exhausted."

"Where's Boyd?" Raylan asked without missing a beat.

"Boyd's not here," she said. "Look, I know you won't believe me, but I had nothin' to do with this. Neither did Boyd. Arlo just showed up here this mornin'."

"Showed up?" Raylan asked.

"Yeah. Arlo told me he just walked out of the prison infirmary. Said he had to find Helen," she recanted. "He's off his meds. I could tell. You'd be able to tell, too, if you were around him more often."

"If that's supposed to be a dig, you know why I can't be around him," Raylan shot her a look.

"No, offense intended," she gently placed her hand on his arm. "I'm just statin' a fact ... about his meds."

"You do know it's a felony to be harborin' a fugutive?" he reported, taking his hat off his head.

"Raylan," she said with in calm, even voice. "I called 911 to let the operator know when he showed up. You can check if you want to."

He studied her face.

"Alright, I believe you," he said. "But how did Arlo get from the prison to here?"

Ava shook her head. "I dunno. You'll have to ask Arlo."

Then, she turned on her heel and led him to the bedroom. Raylan found the old man snoring hard, sound to sleep. Raylan let out a light of both disgust and frustration.

"Arlo," he sharply shouted, as he tapped on the side of the head board, making noise. "Wake up!"

Arlo opened his eyes and gave his son a vacant look. Raylan could tell he was not in good shape.

"Do you know where you are?" Raylan asked.

"Yeah," Arlo responded. "I'm at Helen's. She's run off and left me." He sounded distraught, frightened.

Ava leaned over and whispered to Raylan. "Please don't tell him she's dead. He cries."

Raylan nodded, indicating that he understood.

"You stay with him," he instructed Ava. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you goin'?" she sounded concerned ... for Arlo, for herself.

"To get a doctor," he said.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Raylan returned to the house a short time later with a doctor who went in to talk to Arlo. He gave him some pills to swallow and an injection of a mild sedative. The doctor then wrote down some instructions on his Rx pad and handed them to Raylan to give to the prison infirmary. Raylan took the piece of paper, folded into quarters, and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

"Give him about another 10 minutes, and he should be a piece of cake to transport," the doctor instructed.

"Thank you, doctor," Raylan responded, extending his hand to the doctor for a shake.

Soon after the doctor left the house, Tim joined Raylan inside the house.

"Ava, you remember Marshal Gutterson?" he reintroduced the two.

"Hi," Ava gave Tim a timid smile.

Tim returned with an obligatory, professional, tight-lipped nod.

"Now, again," Raylan turned his attention square on her, "where's Boyd?"

"I told you, he's not here," she insisted.

"You expect me to believe he just up and left here at the crack of dawn, on the same mornin' Arlo escapes from prison?" he asked, with his hands emphatically on his hips.

"Believe whatever you want, but Boyd's not here," she said, "and I don't know where he is."

Tim interjected, "It does seem awfully coincidental."

"Ava, when's he comin' back?" Raylan asked, tiring of trying to pull answers out of her as if he was pulling teeth.

Ava looked up at Raylan with her big blue eyes.

"He's not," she said. "Comin' back."

Raylan narrowed his eyes, showing he either didn't comprehend or believe what she was saying.

"Well, if you must know," she began, "Boyd and I are havin' some problems."

"Oh, really?" Raylan's eyebrows arched as high as his doubts.

"Yes," she reiterated. "Really. He's been gettin' all into himself again. You know how he can be. I can't deal with him when he's like that. It's just better if we go our separate ways."

"And is he?" Tim asked. "Gonna let you go your separate ways?"

"I dunno," she answered them both. "I guess I'm gonna find out."

Raylan sighed. "Another question. If Boyd's not around, how do you know he didn't bring Arlo here?"

"Because I know Boyd," she said. "He wouldn't do somethin' like that."

"Meanin' someone else would?" Raylan immediately followed up.

Ava shook her head. "I didn't say that. You're twistin' my words."

"And Johnny? You still hear from him?" Raylan asked.

"Not so much, anymore," she said, playfully. "I'd imagine you could find him at his bar. He lives around back, but I expect you already know that."

"Is Johnny runnin' whores now, too?" Raylan asked, suspecting that's what this rift between Boyd and Ava was really all about.

"Gee, I dunno," she answered him. "You'd have to ask Johnny about that, too."

Becoming antsy and tired of just standing around, Tim inhaled a big breath of air. "Oh, we will," he assured her. Then, he glanced at his watch and turned to his partner. "I'm gonna go check on Arlo ... see if he's cooperative enough to get this show on the road."

"Alright," Raylan said.

When the two were alone, in her sweetest voice, Ava said, "I heard you have a new baby girl."

Raylan nodded. "You heard right."

Twirling her hair playfully around her finger, she said, "I'd love to see her sometime."

Suddenly uncomfortable, he said, "I dunno about that, Ava."

"Why? Did you get back together with your ex again?" she asked. "Last I heard, you told me you two had split."

Raylan let out a sigh. "I'm not with anyone right now, and you know what? I kinda like it that way."

Ava pouted. "Seems you and I can't get it together when we're both free. Now that I'm free, you're tellin' me you're not?"

Still uncomfortable with the conversation, he said, "We can talk about this some other time. I gotta get goin'."

The truth was, even though Ava was no longer a witness in an active case, she was likely a criminal, who consorted with another known criminal. Still, if she was telling the truth about leaving Boyd, Raylan didn't want to discourage her for staying clear of him.

"Alright," she said. "We can talk about us later."

She seemed satisfied for the time being. At the same time, Tim emerged with a very docile Arlo, handcuffed and on his feet.

Looking directly at Raylan, Tim said, "I'll take him out to the car."

"Be there I'll in just a second," he said, and watched his father leave without even an acknowledgment.

Then, he felt a warm hand on his arm.

"He didn't know who I was, either," Ava said, confirming what she knew Raylan was thinking. "His mind is that far gone." She then gave his arm a squeeze. "I'm sorry, Raylan."

Then, she gave him an unsolicited hug, trying to offer some comfort.

"Yeah, thanks," he said. "Look, I really do have to go."

He removed himself from her arms. And as he walked out the door, he couldn't help but think of the irony of the situation. Arlo was the lucky one because he couldn't remember Raylan. Somehow, he wished it was the other way around.

_(To be continued ...)_


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Swear Jar 4/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Raylan slowly walked out to the street to brief the Troopers on the route he would take to return Arlo to Trumbull. It was agreed they would follow him and Tim, unless they received a higher priority call. None of the law enforcement officers thought Arlo posed any kind of a real threat, but all were still unclear as to how the old man got from Point A at the prison to Point B to this house on Indian Line. What was clear was they could expect no help from the elderly escapee who appeared to have lost his cotton-picking mind.

Approaching the driver's side of his Lincoln, Raylan noted that Tim already had Arlo secured in the backseat, and he appreciated his partner taking the lead on handling Arlo. Raylan opened his door and took a look back, at his father. Arlo was staring out the passenger window with an aimless look on his face. In fact, he didn't look like himself at all, more like a shadow of his former self.

"You want me to drive?" Tim leaned over and asked, noting the heavy look of concern on his partner's face.

"Naw, but thanks," Raylan acknowledged, taking his seat and pulling the shoulder harness of his seatbelt nice and taught before clicking the buckle. "Let's get this over with," he said, adjusting the hat on his head.

Not too long after they hit the Interstate, Raylan glanced in the rearview mirror at the same time the State Trooper vehicle abruptly peeled off the off-ramp.

"Seems we lost our Trooper friends," Raylan remarked.

Tim quickly checked his side mirror and confirmed they had taken off for parts unknown. Then, he turned his head to check on Arlo, who was asleep and softly snoring. His jaw was relaxed, and his mouth was open.

"Arlo's out cold," he commented. Then, he looked back over at Raylan. "Are we going to follow up with Boyd after we drop Arlo off?"

"Not sure," Raylan answered with his eyes fixed straight ahead, on the road. "Art only called me in today to take care of Arlo. After he's signed, sealed, and delivered, I really do need to get back."

Tim was surprised at the demeanor of this new father. He never thought he'd see the day when Raylan Givens passed on a chance at busting Boyd Crowder's chops, especially since Arlo took the fall for him. Raylan let it be known among those at the Lexington office that, while he always wanted to be the one to see his father go back to jail where he belonged, he was not at all happy to see him take a felony fall for a double murder for the likes of Boyd. In fact, he was pissed. But lately, Raylan had become somewhat philosophical about the whole thing by saying one had to be careful for what one wishes, or at be least extremely specific about the details ... or you just might get it. Tim was surprised to see his resignation, didn't really understand it.

It was about that time when Raylan's cell phone rang.

"Givens," Raylan quickly answered as he noticed Loretta's name on the display.

"Marshal, I need to inform you my foster mom called and instructed me to go pick up her youngest boy at school from the school nurse," Loretta began. "She's been held up in town, and the little guy's runnin' a fever. You have a choice of comin' on now and pickin' up little Cait, or you can trust me to drive her to the school and back to pick up my foster brother."

"Hang on just a second," he said and quietly relayed his dilemma to Tim, who said absolutely nothing in response.

All Raylan could think about was whether Loretta was being truthful about picking up a contagious kid, or was she really heading over to the school at lunch time to deliver some weed? Then, he thought 'what difference did it make?' He didn't want his baby girl anywhere near either scenario. Raylan then looked in his rearview mirror at Arlo, who still out like a light.

"Just hang on. I'm on my way," he said. "I should be there in about 20 minutes."

As he disconnected the call, Tim said, "Are you sure that's a good idea? Pickin' up Cait, first, before we deliver Arlo?"

"What choice do I have?" he asked with conviction. "There's no way I'm lettin' a tiny infant ride with a teenager. And besides, Loretta doesn't have the base to the car seat. It's strapped back there in the backseat of this car, next to Arlo."

He then motioned to the backseat.

"And by the way, Art doesn't want only one of us doin' prison transports, anymore," Raylan nodded, building onto his case for breaking Art's orders.

"Yeah," Tim chuckled, "thanks to you."

Tim was referring to that time Raylan had his keys, his weapons, ID, and his hat taken by an escaped convict and locked in the storage room of a convenience store, on his way back to prison after a prison transport. "Art's not going to like a civilian infant riding along with a prison transport, even if you are all related."

"Alright, you're the genius," Raylan was beginning to become frustrated. "What should I do? You tell me."

"Well, I suppose you _are_ in a bind," Tim said, loving the prospect of having something new to hold over Raylan's head. "You better hope we don't run into Art and Rachael up at the prison."

"Shit," Raylan said upon this realization, as he sharply hit the steering wheel with the heel of hand in frustration, unable to catch a break.

"That's another dollar for the _Swear Jar_," Tim smiled, knowing he may be risking life and limb in bringing up cursing in Raylan's current state.

Or maybe, just maybe, it would break a little tension in the car.

"We woudn't want Cait's college fund to be short-changed now, would we?" he needled on.

Raylan took in a deep breath, catching Tim's intent. "Noooo, we wouldn't want that I guess."

Then, Raylan smiled. "Well, hell, shit, fuck, and Jesus Christ," he let it all hang out, even letting out a chuckle. "I know. I'm graduatin' to a fifty in the _Swear Jar_, but damn that felt good!"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Back at Loretta's, Tim remained in the car with Arlo who was still drugged, while Raylan went inside to pick up Caitlyn.

Raylan quickly packed up the diaper bag, and Loretta finished changing Cait's diaper for the road.

"How much do I owe you for today?" he asked her, hoisting the bag over his shoulder. "'cause I really do appreciate you doin' this for me and on such short notice."

He then headed into the kitchen and over to the freezer to grab the milk and the icepack and placed it down into the bag, and returned to the living room.

Picking up the freshly diapered babe and handing her over to her Daddy, Loretta said, "Like I said, Marshal, I'm the one who owes you. I wouldn't take your money. I don't need any, thanks to you."

Raylan instantly smiled at his baby when she gave him a toothless smile of recognition and joyfully waved her arms and legs. He gently placed her into her car seat and carefully strapped her in. It was a side of Raylan Loretta had never seen before. It reminded her of her own late Daddy.

"I was kiddin', you know," she said in her typical flat, void of all emotion fashion.

"About what?" he turned his head to look at her.

"About you not makin' it a habit about watchin' Caitlyn," she admitted. "I was just kiddin'. You can call me again to watch her. If I'm available, I'd do it with no lip and at no charge. She's a good baby."

"Yeah, she is," he smiled. "That's awful generous of you. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she said, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

One hand emerged from her pocket with her keys.

"I'm gonna follow you on out," she said. "I need to head over to the school."

With Cait's seat handle now firmly in his hand and ready to go, Raylan smiled. "Thank you for callin' me when you were faced with a dilemma and lettin' me decide on how to handle it. It shows tremendous maturity and good judgment on your part."

"What can I say?" she flippantly said. "I'm wise beyond my years. Or that's what people like to tell me."

Raylan smiled and nodded. "It's the first one. You're a wise one. Be good."

And he walked out of the house and down the driveway.

He then looked down at Cait and softly said, "I never thought this was gonna happen, but you're about to meet your Grandfather. Well, sorta."

He then opened the door to the driver's side of the backseat and quietly clicked her seat into the base and strapped the seatbelt over the seat, tightening it until she was secured.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The drive out to Trumbull was uneventful. Raylan relished the quiet, as both Arlo and Cait were sleeping. Even Tim had talked himself out. Raylan decided that as soon as he got this situation under control, he'd be a whole lot safer with Winona if he could talk her into letting him and the baby join her in Bowling Green for a few days.

When they arrived at the check-in office at the side entrance of the prison, Raylan quickly scanned the parking lot.

"I don't see them," Tim remarked, referring to Art's vehicle, the one he and Rachael had taken for their transport assignment. "You lucked out."

"It appears so," he said, bringing the car to a stop in the shade of a tree and putting it in 'PARK.'

Unclasping his seatbelt, Tim said, "I'll go in and take care of the paperwork. I'll be back in a few for Arlo."

"Alright," Raylan acknowledged, cracking his window just a tad.

As Tim closed the door and walked towards the intake entrance, the sound startled Arlo awake. In a moment of crystal clarity, Arlo looked over at Raylan.

"This is my granddaughter, isn't she?" he asked, his eyes smiling.

Alarmed and very tight-lipped Raylan turned around and studied the situation very carefully.

"Don't worry, Son," Arlo added, catching Raylan's alarm. "I'm not gonna hurt her."

Then, the old man looked over at her, almost drinking in the very sight of her.

"She's beautiful. Gonna be a looker," he said, keeping his voice down low, so as not to wake the sleeping baby. "She takes after your Momma. Dontcha think?"

"Thank God for small favors," Raylan whispered sarcastically, under his breath.

"I understand why you didn't bring her to see me, here," Arlo said. "Prison's no place for little ones."

"You got that right," Raylan said, biting his tongue.

What Raylan really wanted to tell the son-of-a-bitch was to take a good, long look because it would be the last time he would ever see her. He decided it better to keep the situation nice a quiet until Tim returned.

"You take after your momma, too," he said, still looking at his granddaughter.

"Arlo?" Raylan asked, astounded by the man's pension for deception. "Why did you escape from the infirmary?"

Arlo looked up at his son and quietly said, "'cause this was the only way I could think of that I might could see my only grandchild."

Raylan's eyes narrowed in astonishment.

"I figured your boss would send you after me," Arlo stated as a matter-of-fact.

"And you thought I'd just happen to have her with me?" Raylan asked, unable to fathom how his father's mind worked.

Arlo shook his head, returning his gaze to the baby.

"Oh, no," he said. "I thought I could talk you into showin' me a picture of her. But this ... this is even better."

Arlo's head moved a little closer to get a better look. And Raylan instinctively flinched, as his arm immediately moved to separate the old man from his baby.

"Relax, Raylan," he gently said. "I'm not gonna touch her. I'm not gonna hurt her. I just wanna burn this beautiful picture of her in my memory."

Slowly, Raylan moved his arm back into the front seat.

"What's her name?" Arlo asked.

"It's Caitlyn. Caitlyn Grace," he answered.

"After Frances," Arlo noted. "That's real nice."

After a moment of silence, Arlo added, "I'm glad you're not alone. I've worried about that."

"About me?" Rayan asked, again, not buying the act of concern.

"Look, I know you don't like me to call you my son, but you are," he said. "And I don't like the thought of leavin' you all alone in the world."

"What are you talkin' about?" Raylan asked. "Leavin' me alone now? Or my whole life?"

The old man looked up. "I mean now. My health's no good. I'm not gettin' any younger. Prison's a dangerous place. I know my days are numbered."

It was about that time that Tim returned and opened the backseat, passenger side of the car.

"They're ready for him," Tim reported to Raylan and began to unlatch Arlo's seat belt. "C'mon, let's go," he instructed the prisoner."

As Arlo stepped out of the car, Raylan asked, "Arlo, was it worth it?"

Arlo turned his head and took one last look at Caitlyn.

"You know it was, son," he said.

This time, there were tears in Arlo's eyes ... first time Raylan had seen tears in his father's eyes since Helen died. Tim closed the door. As his father was being led inside the building, Raylan knew this was, indeed, the last time Arlo would see both Caitlyn ... and him. An unexpected lump formed in his throat.

_(To be continued ...)_


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Swear Jar 5/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Once back at the Lexington office, Raylan and Tim ran into Art as soon as they stepped off the elevator.

"I understand you transported your father with the baby in the car," Art glared at Raylan.

Art had been waiting for them. The shock on Raylan's face instantly turned into narrowing eyes of anger directed towards Tim.

"Oh, Tim didn't say anything," Art immediately set Raylan straight. "I have eyes in the back of my head at that prison, even when I'm not there."

The equally dumbfounded look on Tim's face confirmed his innocence.

"Well, Art," Raylan began with a huff. "It wasn't my idea to come into the office this mornin'. You told me to bring Caitlyn in, and we'd figure somethin' out."

He lifted the baby's carrier with his hand for emphasis, and then, continued. "But, that didn't exactly happen. I had to find a sitter at the last minute; and then suddenly, the sitter wasn't available anymore. I did the best I could in the situation we were in."

Tim chimed in. "He's telling the truth, Boss. The Troopers had to leave us for a higher priority call. You and Rachael were already at Trumbull. Raylan asked me if I could see any other options, and I could not. So, if Raylan's in trouble, I guess I am, too."

There, Tim laid himself out there to show Raylan he did not snitch.

Before, Art could even open his mouth, Raylan continued. "I'm scheduled off this whole week on vacation. I don't care if it's a paid time off or not ... I need to take care of my baby, and I'm the only parent she has in town. With all due respect, Art, I need to get goin'. Can't we deal with this childcare issue over the phone? I mean, it's not like Winona and her sister are typically out of town ... ever. They both just happen to be gone this week."

"Gee, Raylan," Art put his hands defiantly on his hips. "I do believe you're finally growin' up."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Back at Gayle's house, Raylan packed up some more of the baby's things and some clothes for himself and loaded everything into the trunk of the car. He then went up the street to gas up and called Winona, again.

"Raylan? What's wrong?" she asked upon answering her cell phone.

"Nothin's wrong," he said. "Cait's fine. I just wanted to give you a heads up. We're comin' out there to see you for a few days."

"What? Why?" she asked. "What's wrong? And don't tell me nothing, Raylan. I know you," she warned.

"Honestly?" he asked, "Art's tryin' to get me to come into work."

He figured at least this story had a kernel of truth in it.

"The only way I can justify not going in ... is to not be here, at all," he explained.

It was very convincing because Winona bought it.

"We'll be there in a couple of hours," he said.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After her last seminar of the afternoon, Winona strolled out into the hotel lobby where she found Raylan and Cait in a seating area off the Front Desk.

A big smile came over Winona's face when she saw her baby, and she immediately went in for a hug.

"Has she been fed recently?" she asked, "because I just pumped."

"It's about that time, again," he said, handing her baby up to her.

Winona took the seat beside him, pulled out the bottle, and began feeding Caitlyn.

"I've got good news and bad news," Winona said to him after getting the baby settled in. "Which do you want to hear first?" she asked.

"How about we start with the good," Raylan took off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair.

"The good news is I was able to get a crib for Cait," she said. "Bad news is the hotel is full. No more rooms. I've got the Concierge looking for a room for you at another hotel."

"I'm sure they'll find me somethin'," he said, unconcerned. "Hey, have you had dinner yet, because I didn't have lunch, and I'm starved."

"I could eat something," she said. "There's a Chinese restaurant around the corner. I'm hearing it's very good."

"Maybe they even have that Green Tea Ice Cream?" he reminisced. "I like that."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After a very nice dinner with no arguments, Winona and Raylan and baby in tow passed by the Front Desk of Winona's hotel to find out how the search for a room for Raylan was going. The Concierge Desk appeared to be closed, and the Concierge had not called Winona on her cell phone, as she promised she would do.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hawkins," the Front Desk Clerk said. "But there aren't any vacancies within 30 miles of here. There are several conventions going on, in addition to yours. That's probably why the Concierge didn't call."

"Well," she sounded disappointed. "Thanks anyway for checking."

She then turned to Raylan. "You'll stay in my room. It's not like we haven't slept in the same room before."

Carrying their baby up to the elevator, the irony of her statement was not lost on him.

"Are you sure it's okay?" he asked, as they entered the elevator car. "I can sleep in my car."

She pressed the 3rd floor button.

"Don't be silly," she said. "You were thoughtful enough to bring Cait to me. I really was missing her."

"Yeah?" he smiled, glad to hear he'd done something right for a change.

"Yeah," she smiled, exiting the elevator on the 3rd floor, "and besides, your neck will get all in a crick."

She did know him, much as he knew her.

Raylan followed her to her room, where she pulled out her card key and opened the door.

She put her purse and the diaper bag on the dresser, and promptly dug in to retrieve a diaper and the wipes, while he placed the extra milk from the same diaper bag into the mini fridge. Then, she asked Raylan for the baby, and she proceeded to sit on edge of the bed. Raylan took a seat in the nearby chair.

While changing the baby on the bed, Winona asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he answered, removing his hat for the night and placing it upside down on a nearby table.

"How long has it been since you've had sex?" she asked.

Caught a little off guard by the directness of her question, he missed a beat and then, admitted, "Too long. Why are you askin'?"

"Because it's been too long for me, too," she honestly answered his question, "and I've got no prospects in sight."

"You mean you didn't leave me for another man?" he teased.

She laughed a little, keeping her attention on the task at hand. "No. As I recall, I left you ... in haste, barefoot and pregnant."

Once finished, she handed Cait to Raylan for a minute while she went to the bathroom to toss the diaper in the trash and wash her hands.

"Are you still seein' that bartender?" she poked her head around the doorway, from the sink.

"Lindsey?" he asked. "No. She met someone a lot younger and with a lot more money."

"That's what I aspire to do," she said, drying her hands. "Meet someone younger with a lot more money."

She came back into the room and took Cait back into her arms, and she sat back into bed, leaning against the headboard.

"I came to your bar and saw that bartender once because I was curious," she went on. "She's very sexy."

"Not as sexy as you," he said, watching as she nursed their baby in front of him for the first time.

He was somewhat flattered to know she had been checking up on him. It showed either she cared or was jealous.

"I don't know if that's true anymore," she lamented, looking lovingly into the eyes of her babe. "I mean, I just had a baby. I have a few stretch marks. It's gonna take a while before I get my body back. And I'm not sure it will ever be the same as it was."

Cait was suckling at a pretty good clip, making tiny little noises. With her free hand, Winona grabbed for the pillow that was beside her and placed it under the baby to give her more support.

"It was my doing that you moved and met the bartender," she said.

After a few more minutes, she switched Caitlyn to her other breast. Raylan watched closely, as Winona gently rubbed the sleepy baby's cheek with her finger. Almost by reflex with her eyes closed, Caitlyn opened her mouth and latched onto the other breast and began to nurse again.

"You really know what you're doin' there," he said very softly. "You're a natural."

Winona laughed a little. "Not me. Cait was born knowing exactly what to do. But yeah, it's been good for me and my recovery. The pediatrician says it's definitely good for her."

He continued to watch, absolutely fascinated. Mother and daughter were a beautiful sight.

"We did somethin' good, didn't we?" Raylan asked.

Winona looked over and smiled at him. "Best thing we ever did."

After Caitlyn was sound to sleep, Winona began to walk over towards the portable crib.

"Would you hold her while I get her blanket?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, and took Cait into his arms.

Winona laid out the blanket on the bed, and Raylan came over and placed Cait on top of it. After Winona had her properly swaddled, Raylan took her, gently kissed the top of her head, and lowered her down into the crib. It felt good for them to work as a team.

Winona dimmed the lights by the dimmer switch near the door. Then, she walked over to Raylan and took his hands into hers.

"Winona, I, uh," he stammered.

"Do you still love me?" she asked. "After everything I've put you through?"

"You're the mother of my baby," he said, gazing deeply into her eyes and reaching up with one hand and pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Of course I love you. I'm _always_ gonna love you."

She pulled him towards her and could feel his fervent desire pressing against her. They're mouths met, lips and tongues hungry for the other. Their breathing became rapid and heavy, heartbeats were racing, and clothing and shoes and boots began to come, flying off.

Then, Raylan deliberately slowed everything down. She had just delivered his baby. He would be tender, tonight. And she responded in kind.

He had prayed to be with her again, to have the chance to make sweet, tender love to her just one more time. And here they were, lying in bed, skin on skin, mouth to mouth, breathing, and writhing in a familiar dance they both thought was forever gone.

His release immediately followed hers, and she began to softly sob.

"Hey, now," he whispered from on top of her. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

And he tenderly wiped the tears on her face with his thumbs.

She shook her head.

"No, nothing like that," she said. "It's just that I've missed you so much."

Raylan didn't know what to say. He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead, her eyes, and her temples. And when he got to her mouth, she returned his kiss, long and deep. In a matter of moments, he was ready to go again, and she clung to him from underneath him with all her might. He had missed her so much, too. His prayers were answered.

_(To be continued ...)_


	6. Chapter 6

Title: The Swear Jar 6/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

At about 4:30 a.m., a little whimper came from the crib. Raylan was up in a flash to see about his baby girl. He decided he would do the heavy lifting in the middle of the night, over the next few days, as Winona had to get up early and attend her seminars.

"Shhhhhh," he said softly in Caitlyn's ear.

He brought her up to his shoulder and held her close, supporting her head.

"Raylan?" Winona called from the bed, also awakened. "Would you bring her to me?" she asked.

She watched how he was with Cait, so calm, strong, and reassuring.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing little circles around the baby's back. "I was tryin' not to wake you."

"Oh, you didn't," she explained. "Every time she cries like she's hungry? My breasts ... well ... what I'm tryin' to say is that I need to nurse her."

"Sure," he said and passed Cait over to Winona.

"Or pump. It's a whole lot easier in the middle of the night to nurse," she said, offering her breast to the babe. "But you could get a new diaper and the wipes out of the bag. She'll need to be changed before she can go back in the crib."

Raylan nodded and let out a big yawn, as he pawed through the diaper bag.

"Tired?" she asked him, knowing he had been taking care of Cait for the last 36 hours.

"Oh, I'm fine," he said and sat down on the bed. "Besides, I'm on vacation this week," he reminded her.

"Some vacation, huh?" she asked.

He leaned over and kissed her.

"I don't mind," he said.

Winona nursed Cait about 10 minutes on each side, and then changed the babe. Next, she showed Raylan how to burp a sleeping baby, over his lap and asked him to put her back to bed when he was done, while she headed for the bathroom. The middle of the night feeding was not always enough to bring her relief. Thus was the case on this night, and she needed to pump. After she was finished, she tossed the diaper in the trash, washed her hands, and cleaned herself up a bit. When she returned to the room, Caitlin was sleeping peacefully in her crib, and Raylan was waiting for her in bed, his arm stretched out to cuddle her as they went back to sleep.

She first stopped by the mini fridge and made another deposit of milk before climbing back in bed. She laid her head on his shoulder, snuggled in close, and began to slowly run her fingertips lightly up and down his bare chest. He gently kissed the top of her head, the way he used to do.

As long as she'd known Raylan, as many days as they'd been together, she couldn't help but notice how much she missed the feel of him, the smell of him. No one felt or smelled as he did. He was forever seared into her memory. She couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way about her.

His chest slowly rose and fell with each breath, as her fingers played him and set off a stirring within her.

"Would you think I was terrible if I was able to seduce you, now?" she asked.

With his eyes closed, he said in a low, gravelly voice, "I knew pregnant women got a little randy, but I didn't know this also happened _after_ the baby was born." Then, he quickly added before getting himself in trouble, "Not that I know much of anything before or after babies."

Winona's hands lightly glided over his body and then, under the covers. He let out a stifled, little gasp, as he tried not to wake the baby. She then, sat up on her haunches and began to lightly kiss him, down his neck, his chest, and down. In only a matter of minutes, his pent up desire, from all the time without her, matched hers. He reached up and wrapped his long arms around her, suddenly flipping her small frame underneath him, until she was no longer the one in control. He then leaned down and covered her mouth with his, muffling their mutual moans, as he devoured her with a driven intent.

There was nothing tender about their lovemaking this time. It was urgent, intense, and physical all the way through to its earth-shattering conclusion.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Raylan awoke to his cell phone vibrating on the nightstand near his head. He grabbed it and looked at the display. It was Art, and there were 2 missed calls. Also, it was 10:30 a.m.

"Art?" he asked, pressing the receive button and scrubbing his face and head with his hand, as if to wipe away the cobwebs of a deep sleep.

"How come you're not answerin' or returnin' my calls?" Art asked, sounding quite irritated.

Quickly scanning the darkened room, a disoriented Raylan noticed Winona and the baby weren't there.

"I'm callin' to let you know we haven't been able to find Crowder," Art said, not waiting for a response to his question. "No sign of him at Johnny Crowder's bar. Tim went out there late yesterday. And we've got the house on Indian Line on watch. Still no sign of him there, either. Do you have any other ideas?"

"No, I don't," Raylan answered, now on up his feet, checking out the bathroom, confused about where they could have gone.

Then, he saw a note on the table and read it, as Art rambled on.

_Good morning, _

_I took Cait with me to the morning session. If they don't like it, too bad. _

_Rest up, Cowboy._

_Love,_

_Me _

"Raylan, did you hear me?" Art asked.

"Uh, sorry. Bad reception," he thought fast on his feet. "I'm in Bowlin' Green with Winona."

"Well, good," Art reasoned. "You can drop the baby off and come on back to the office ... and go find Boyd."

"Uh, no," Raylan corrected his boss. "I'm here for the rest of the week with the baby, while Winona gets her certification under control," he explained. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea where to look for Boyd. If I did, I'd tell you."

Art was wondering what had gotten into Raylan, not wanting to pursue his nemesis. Then, it dawned on him that maybe it was Winona who had gotten into Raylan and that, maybe, it wasn't a bad thing for his marshal. At least, as long as they weren't fighting.

"Did you check the surveillance cameras at the prison?" Raylan threw his boss a bone.

"Yeah," Art replied. "The one in the infirmary showed Arlo walkin' out, alone."

Raking his fingers through his hair, Raylan added, "Maybe Arlo did walk out alone, like he said he did. And maybe one of the inmates owed him a favor in the form of a ride from one of their friends or family members?"

"Meanin' Boyd was not involved," Art followed.

"As much as we'd like, we've found no evidence that he was," Raylan closed up his rationale. "We only assumed."

"Well, I guess we'll continue to keep an eye on Ava to see if he turns up there," Art said with a sigh of frustration. "If we find anything, do you even want to know?"

"Not really," he said. "Nothin' I can do about it until next week, you know?"

"Alright," Art gave in. "I'll see you on Monday."

"Yep. Bright and early," Raylan quipped and disconnected the call.

Then, the moment came when Raylan truly felt like every other new parent when all he wanted to do was to take a leisurely shower before resuming his fatherly duties. And that was exactly what he did.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

At the lunch break, Winona ran up to the room and brought Caitlyn back to Raylan. The baby had spit up on herself and smelled a little sour.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll take care of it."

"She was fed about 15 minutes ago. Sorry, I gotta go," Winona said and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, as she took off out the door.

Raylan had the baby in his arms.

"How about a bath, baby girl?" he asked.

He proceeded to prop her up on the bathroom counter while he prepared a warm bath, but not too warm, for her in the sink. He then carried her to the bed and removed her clothes and diaper and grabbed the baby shampoo and lotion out of the diaper bag. Next, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and carried Cait back into the bathroom.

"There you go," he said, lowering her into the water, floating her while supported in his hand.

The baby relaxed in his hand and gave her Daddy one of her famous toothless smiles. He laughed and worked quickly, gently washing her hair with a washcloth and rinsing her using a glass filled with tepid water. When he was all done, he scooped her up and wrapped her in a big thirsty towel. About that time, there was a knock at the door.

"Room service," a male voice called from the other side of the door.

Raylan had ordered a burger and some coffee for lunch. He opened the door to the room. The front of Raylan's shirt was wet from bath water, and he still had the baby in his arms.

The waiter looked around the room. It hadn't been cleaned yet and was sort of in disarray. Raylan quickly cleared off a place on the table so that the waiter could put down the tray.

"I wanted to leave you a tip, but my hands are kinda full right now," he explained, as the waiter set up his meal.

Very nonchalantly, the waiter said, "Oh, you can charge it to your room, including any gratuity."

"Thanks," he said, thinking this place was much nicer than the kind of places where he usually stayed.

After the waiter left, Raylan diapered and dressed Cait and placed her back in her infant seat. He then cleared off the other end of the table and placed her near him so that he could eat.

"How about you and me goin' explorin' for a while, this afternoon," he asked the babe, in between bites of his burger. "We need to let the maid have a chance to clean up this mess."

He proceeded to finish his lunch, grab the diaper bag, and call the front desk for maid service. Then, he grabbed his hat, as he and Caitlyn left to explore some of Bowling Green.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Raylan returned to the room at about 5:30 p.m. with his hands full. He had Caitlyn's carrier in one hand, and a large pizza in the other. He knocked on the door with his knee and Winona answered.

"You brought pizza?" she smiled.

"Yes, with sausage, peppers, and no onions," he recited.

"You remembered," her smile became broader.

She took the pizza from him and placed it on the table.

"Where did you two go this afternoon," she asked, releasing Cait from her car seat.

He answerd, "Cait and I went the National Corvette Museum. They had over 80 Corvettes there on display. We had a fun day."

And he reached into the pocket of the diaper bag, pulled out the pamplet, and handed it to her.

"I didn't even realize they had a car museum here," she said, glancing at the small brochure. "That's sweet you took Cait out on her first excursion."

Then, she changed the subject. "You want a soda to go with the pizza? There's a machine at the end of the hall."

"I'll take a Pepper," he said, unloading his shoulder of the diaper bag. "Here, I'll go get them," he offered. "You want a Diet Coke?"

"No, a regular one," she said. "I'm nursing. No artificial sweeteners for our girl."

When he returned to the room, Winona was gushing all over the baby.

"Did you give her a bath?" Winona asked, frankly surprised. "She smells so good." Turning her attention to Cait, she said, "So good I just want to eat you up."

And she laughed. It was a beautiful site, mother and baby ... both so happy.

Raylan smiled. "Yeah, she needed a bath. It was fun, I must say."

At that moment, Raylan's phone began to vibrate in his pocket, and he pulled it out as a number came up on the display. It was a Harlan number.

"Hey," the female voice said on the other end when he answered.

"Hey," Raylan repeated, not sure who he was talking to.

"When you were at the house the other day, you said it wasn't a good time for us to talk," the woman continued. "When would be a good time?"

_Ava Crowder._

"Uh, maybe about the time we figure out how you and Boyd figure into Arlo's prison break?" he said, for lack of knowing what to say.

Meanwhile, Winona took Caitlyn into the bathroom to give Raylan a little privacy, even though her interest was piqued by what she'd heard.

"Like I told you, I had nothin' to do with it," Ava repeated herself from the day before.

Raylan cleared his throat, "The problem is, until we find Boyd and he can corroborate your story, you remain a suspect."

"I see," she said, suddenly sounding cool.

Then, Raylan decided to shut this down.

"Look Ava," he began. "I'm not on the Boyd end of the case. There's a conflict because it involves Arlo. So, if you have any information about Boyd, you should call our office and ask for Deputy Marshal Tim Gutterson. You remember Tim? Tall, good lookin' young man?"

"I do," she said. "And I will. Call him ... if I find out anything about Boyd."

"Well, I gotta go," he said in closing.

"Can you still not talk?" she surmised.

Ava was very good about sizing up a situation.

"No, I can't," he said. "And I really do have to go. Bye."

And he disconnected the call.

"Who was that?" Winona walked out of the bathroom at the end of the conversation.

Raylan was hesitant. "It's about Boyd Crowder and his possible involvement in somethin' goin' on over in Harlan."

Suspicious, Winona asked, "Why are they calling you when you're here?"

"Exactly!" Raylan exclaimed. "That's exactly what I asked."

Letting out a pent up sigh of frustration, Winona stood with her hands on her hips. "Raylan, were you talking to Ava?"

He looked at her and decided he'd better come clean. "Yeah. She called me to talk about Boyd. I didn't recognize her number, or I would have let it go to voicemail. Anyway, I told her I'm not on the case, which is true, and that she needs to contact Tim. You heard me say that, right?"

"I did," she answered, glad that he told the truth. "But now what's all this about Arlo?"

Thinking fast on his feet, Raylan began, "I told you Art was tryin' to get me to come into the office on my vacation? Well, Arlo walked out of prison. Don't worry, they got him back in. But the authorities thought that Boyd and Ava may have had somethin' to do with it. Art figured because this case involved Arlo, I'd want to come in on it. But Art never has understood my relationship with my father."

"So, that's why you wanted to get out of town?" she deduced.

She put Caitlyn's seat on the table and grabbed a slice of the still warm pizza.

"Well, that and ... Winona, I really wanted to see you," he admitted. "I've had these longin's to be with you, and they've gotten worse since I've seen you with Caitlyn."

Winona smiled. "Really? Because I get the same kind of feelings when I see you with Caitlyn, too." In between bites, she added, "I love watching you with her ... the way you are with her."

"Yeah?" he asked, popping the top of his soda and pouring it into a glass.

He then did the same for hers and handed it to her.

"Yeah," she said. "And as long as I'm being honest? I didn't like that you were talking to Ava Crowder. I mean, you had a thing with her, and just the mention of her name ... it pisses me off."

"You owe a buck to the Jar," he said with a smile. Then, his tone became serious. "Winona, you don't have anything to worry about from Ava, or any other woman. I've got it bad for you and for you alone. Always have ... always will."

"Ava's a beautiful woman," Winona admitted, sipping her cola.

Raylan shook his head and removed his hat.

"You are still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said, gazing into her blue eyes. "You want me to show you what you do to me?

He then stood up and looked down on her. "I'd like to take you right here and now."

Winona placed her piece of pizza on a nearby napkin and dusted off her hands.

She looked up at him and said, "Well, what's stopping you, Cowboy?"

_(To be continued ...)_


	7. Chapter 7

Title: The Swear Jar 7/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Early the next morning, Winona emerged from the bathroom, showered and dressed for her morning session, to find Raylan already up with Caitlyn. Winona could see by the baby paraphernalia located near the foot of the bed that the baby had already been changed.

Barefoot, in his t-shirt and boxers, Raylan sat in the wingback chair feeding Cait with a bottle. Winona couldn't help but smile. He seemed so comfortable, a natural, so easy-going with the baby ... a far cry from the first time she saw him hold Cait in the hospital. For such a strong, brave law man, one might have thought the delivery room nurse handed him a bottle of nitroglycerin in a receiving blanket, instead of a baby. When the nurse placed their baby in his arms that momentous day, even though he was masked and gowned, Raylan was stiff and awkward ... absolutely terrified that he didn't know what he was doing, and he didn't. But then, he began to talk to his newborn, welcome her into the world, and introduce himself as her Daddy. Jawing with a newborn just as easy as the day was long. Winona loved the way her looked at their baby, a look of never-before-seen joy that spread over his face. It was an unforgettable side of Raylan Givens she had never experienced before.

There, two months later, Raylan looked like a pro. Winona watched him give Cait the same loving look he gave her in the delivery room. He was in love with Caitlyn Grace, and it was enough to melt Winona's heart. Of course, she felt that way about her baby, but she never expected the same reaction from Raylan. Honestly, she didn't know what she expected from him, but he had more than met them. The best part was, it was natural, nothing forced or contrived. Seeing him step up during her certification week with such confidence, taking over with the tender, loving care of their daughter was making her fall in love with Raylan Given all over again.

"How are you two doing over there?" she asked, stepping into her heels.

"We're just havin' a little breakfast, aren't we?" he confirmed with Cait. Then, he looked over at Winona in the light coming from the bathroom. "Wow, you look fantastic!"

She was pleased he noticed. She was back in one of her pencil skirts for the first time since delivering the baby. All the hard work she had been doing was paying off, and she was quite proud of herself. She couldn't help but wonder if all the sex they'd been having that week was helping the cause.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Would you do me a favor and hand me a burp towel?" he asked her, as she was standing near the diaper bag. "Little Bit, is gonna need it in just a minute."

Winona reached into the diaper bag and pulled out the Swear Jar, along with a clean towel.

"What are these big bills doing in Caitlyn's Swear Jar?" she asked after a moment, holding the jar in her hand and showing it to Raylan.

Again, he looked up and over at her.

"Remember, I told you Art was callin' me, trying to guilt me into comin' in to the office because of Arlo?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, thinking fast on his feet.

"Yeah," she nodded and approached him, handing him the towel.

"I lost count on how many cuss words unwittingly escaped my lips that day," he admitted, taking the towel from her and placing it over his shoulder. "I'm pretty sure I called Arlo every name in the book. So, I thought to myself ... why fight it? And I stopped off at the ATM and pulled out a $50 and a $20 to cover me for a while."

There. Raylan lied, a little, by not telling her the $20 was from Tim. Winona laughed upon hearing his story.

"I need to pay up, too," she admitted as well, pulling out a single bill from her wallet and placing them inside the jar. "I cussed, again, when I stubbed my toe yesterday in Lady Cait's presence."

Raylan then brought the babe up to his shoulder and began patting her gently on the back.

"Whatever are we gonna do about your potty mouth?" Raylan teased Winona with a playful grin.

"Mine?" she chuckled. "Compared to yours, mine is mild."

She held up the jar to the light and turned it from every angle, looking inside the clear glass.

"At the rate you're going, this child will be able to afford an Ivy League school," she quipped.

"Probably," he agreed. "Glad I can help."

Then, all of a sudden, a big 'burp' came out of little Caitlyn. Both Raylan and Winona laughed at the unexpected sound.

"WOW!" he exclaimed to Cait, suddenly becoming quite alert as he supported her head.

Winona came closer and sat on the corner of the bed.

"I can't believe that big ol' burp came out of such a little body," she said, still smiling. "She takes after you with that, you know."

"Just one of my many talents," he gloated.

Then, Raylan smiled back at her, mirroring smiles ... something that had not happened in ages. Their eyes even smiled. Winona tilted her head.

"Are you happy?" she asked, still smiling.

With a tight lipped smile, he shifted the baby's weight into the crook of his arm and nodded. "Yeah, I am. And you?"

She unconsciously licked her lips, still smiling.

"Very," she said. She paused and twirled the ends of her hair in her fingers. "You know ... this is my last day of class."

"Really?" he asked. "I thought the seminar was going on through Friday?"

"It is," she explained, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. "But I'm all done, as of this afternoon."

Raylan had been having such a nice time, the thought of it coming to an early end didn't feel very good.

Then, Winona asked, "Would you like to stay here through the weekend? Maybe have some play time? Just the three of us?"

Raylan stood up with Caitlyn and took a seat on bed beside Winona. His smiling eyes searched hers, and he leaned in and gave her a kiss.

"That is the best idea I've heard in a long time," he said, coming up for air.

Winona reached over and stroked her baby's hair.

"Well, the sooner I get going, the sooner I'll be back," she said, leaning over to kiss Caitlyn on the top of her sweet head and then, Raylan on the mouth.

With Cait cradled in one arm, he grabbed Winona's hand and pulled her back down. And they kissed again ... really kissed. A moment later, they came up for air.

"We'll be waitin'," Raylan said smiling, as he watched his lady love walk out the door.

But not before she turned around and gave a little wave to Raylan and her baby.

And then she said, "Rest up, Cowboy. I'm gonna jump your bones the first chance I get."

"Do say?" he smiled back at her.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After a quick shower and a room service breakfast, Raylan and Cait went out for a little walk out in the fresh Kentucky air. On the way back, he stopped at the Concierge Desk and picked up some tourist brochures and stopped by the Front Desk where he extended their stay through the Sunday. He also picked up their clean laundry they had dropped off, the day before.

He then went up to the room, hands full of baby, diaper bag, and laundry. After managing to open the door, he placed the package of laundry on top of the dresser and lowered Cait's basket onto the table. She was out. A quick diaper check with his finger found her dry.

Raylan let out a stifled yawn. He'd not had much uninterrupted sleep on this trip, which suited his insomnia just fine ... it was just that he was getting less of it than the usual. Between his Daddy duties, and the fact that he and Winona were having a problem keeping their hands off each other, the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. He removed his hat and placed it over the darkened lamp shade and stretched out on the bed, toeing his boots off. Staring up at the ceiling, he thought the week had gone much better with Winona than he could have hoped. Yet, he decided that slow and steady was probably the best course for them.

In a few moments time, he closed his eyes and nodded off for a much needed nap.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Winona raced through her final course evaluation of the afternoon to finish her CEU requirements in record time, far faster than most others at the conference. She was proud of herself for being no nonsense in her effort to get out of there early. She had been polite, speaking only when spoken to, and had pretty much kept to herself.

She reflected on the noticeable shift between her and Raylan that week. It was her nature to analyze and re-analyze things over and over again, a quality that probably made her such a good court reporter. At first, she chalked the shift off to her being lonely, and well, incredibly horny. After all, Raylan was so easy for her to be around. She had known him for what seemed like ... forever. What was different this week was that she began to really see him ... as the father of _their_ child. Not just some abstract thing she'd imagined, as she often found herself trying to do during her pregnancy. No, this was the 'Real Deal' and whether, they were together or not, they were a family, a _real_ family. They _felt_ like a family. Not like a couple anymore, but a _family_. The reality of that shift in dynamic hit her smack between the eyes.

When she walked into the room, Raylan jumped out of his sleep.

"Sorry," she said, quietly closing the door. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, I'm good," he said, trying to quickly recover.

Looking at the clock, he said, "I got a good couple of hours." Then, concerned he'd been shirking his responsibilities, he looked over at Cait and asked, "How's she doin'?"

Winona smiled and began opening the clasp of the straps that kept her secure in her basket.

"She's doing just fine," she answered. "And she's smiling at me!"

"See," he said, suddenly gaining credibility. "I told you it wasn't gas."

She quickly changed the baby and then, passed Cait over to Raylan so that she could change into some jeans and a top before nursing the baby.

"So, what are you up for this afternoon?" she asked.

Checking his cell phone out of habit, he answered, "There are LOTS of museums in this town. I picked up brochures on several of 'em.'

"While I appreciate you doing your research, I'm not a museum kind of girl," she said, readjusting the baby over a pillow on her lap. "And you're not a museum kind of guy. Besides, Caitlyn's a little too young to really appreciate them. Don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know. She seemed to enjoy seein' the Corvettes, yesterday," he remarked.

She laughed. "Another way she is like you?"

"Well," he sighed, "the only other thing that seems to be plentiful in this city is parks. There are tons and tons of 'em."

"How about a picnic?" she asked, her eyes lighting up.

"I did see this one nearby that has a pond ... with some ducks," he said, rifling through the brochures. "And I noticed on the room service menu that we could get a boxed lunch. How does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect," she said, "although you do realize Caitlyn's a little too young for the ducks?"

"Oh, there're not for her," he said. "I love to feed ducks. My Aunt Helen used to take me down a pond down off of Red Dog Road when I was a kid and my momma was at work. I remember feedin' those ducks on more than one occasion. Helen would save day-old bread and cut it into little squares and put it in a paper bag. Yeah," he said, his thoughts drifting off.

"You never told me that before," she said.

"Hadn't thought about it in years," he answered. "The pond is long gone. Mine blastin' took it." Then, he looked over and asked, "You know what the best part of havin' a baby is?"

"No, what?" she asked.

"Gettin' to re-live your childhood again. The good parts," he nodded.

He was surprised that he was remembering some good parts.

_(To be continued)_


	8. Chapter 8

Title: The Swear Jar 8/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Stretched out under the shade of an old hickory tree, Raylan and Winona enjoyed the peacefulness of a weekday when the park was none too crowded. Caitlyn was wide awake, beginning to find her hands. The adorable site of the baby trying to focus with crossed eyes provided her parents with the afternoon entertainment.

Finishing up their Panini's, Raylan unscrewed the cap off of a bottle of iced tea and passed it over to Winona. He then did the same for himself and took a nice long pull off the caffeinated liquid.

"What would you think about us moving in together?" Winona asked, out of the blue. "As a family," she quickly added, a little apprehensive of Raylan's response.

Surprised and caught off guard, he stifled choking on the gulp of tea, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and carefully chose his words.

He spoke slowly. "As delighted as I am to hear you ask that question, because it's what I've always wanted ... you know ... to spend the rest of my life with you ... I have to ask: What brought on this sudden change of heart?"

Winona looked down at her own fidgeting hands.

"I deserved that," she said. "I mean, after what I did to you, leaving you again."

"Now, let me stop you right there," he held up his index finger, as if to make a point. "Your reasons for leavin' me, this last time, were not entirely without merit. It took me awhile to see that, but I eventually came around. Art's been instrumental in makin' sure I call for backup and wear my Kevlar vest, under threat of bodily harm from him," he sighed.

Winona smiled and thought, _'Good 'ol Art.'_

Continuing on, he said, "_But_, even with me takin' more care, my job is just as dangerous as it always was. _And_ when somethin' is goin' on in Harlan, and I'm assigned to a case because I'm often found to be helpful because of my unique ties to the God-forsaken place, I can't ... _no_t ... go, if ordered because you don't want me to go. That would be insubordination." After a beat, he add, "Trust me, I don't _volunteer_ to go to Harlan." Then, he paused. "Well, except for that one time with Loretta, but that was a special case. And you don't have to worry about me runnin' down there on account of Helen or Arlo anymore."

"You're a good man," she said, reassuringly. "And I'm not gonna lie. Your job scares the ..." and she slowed down a bit. "Am I going have to owe the Swear Jar a buck if I say 'hell?'

Raylan stifled a smile.

"I think we could make an exception," he answered, raising his eyebrows, "just this once."

"Okay," she continued. "Your job still scares the _hell_ out of me, but that's going to happen whether we're living together or not."

Then, she reached over and placed her hand on top of his.

"What I'm trying to say is this week made me realize the three of us are a family," she looked into his eyes.

Then, she looked over at Caitlyn.

"She's more important than you and me and our little squabbles ... or my fears about your job," she said, "... or Harlan."

"What about my job?" he went back to the sticking point. "What are you sayin'?"

She sighed and tilted her head.

"You are good at what you do," she acquiesced. "You should be proud of yourself. I am. And Caitlyn will be proud of you, too. To be the daughter of a U.S. Marshal."

And with that, she squeezed his hand. His eyes narrowed as he studied her, taking in what she was saying.

"What exactly are you sayin' here?" he asked. "From this beautiful day we're havin' here, where do you see us goin'?"

"Home," she answered without skipping a beat. "I want you and me to make a home ... with Cait."

Raylan's narrowed eyes softened, as he felt his tightened lips change into a tight-lipped smile. His eyes quickly followed suit. He turned his hand over and squeezed hers in return.

In a much quieter tone, he asked, "Where would you like to live? I can't stay at Gayle's, and my place is no place for a little one."

"Honey, do you really care where we live?" she asked. "I mean, would you trust me to find a place for the three of us? And, of course, run it by you before we sign anything?"

From past experience, she had given up on the notion that Raylan held any interest in house hunting. All he wanted was a quiet place to hang his hat. And some space. After growing up in the country, he needed a little space.

His smile was still there.

"You would concede on my job _and _be agreeable to do the house huntin', too?" he asked, a little perplexed. "What do you get out of this deal?"

She looked deep into his eyes.

"You," she said, as a complete thought. "Cait and I get a family ... a _real_ family."

Raylan shifted his weight to move closer and put his arm around her.

"Alright," he said. "We could move in together, but on one condition."

He then held her close and gazed into her blue eyes. "Marry me. Again?"

With Cait still focusing on her hands, close by, Winona smiled and answered, "Yes, I'll marry you."

Then, they leaned in to each other for a kiss.

She paused for a beat and added, "Again."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Over the next two days, Raylan and Winona didn't make it very far to finding a new home. They spent their remaining time in Bowling Green at the hotel ... tending to Caitlyn, eating out in restaurants, and making a lot of love. On that Saturday after lunch, they drove downtown to a jewelry store recommended by the Concierge. They had decided to put their money where their mouths were and look for wedding bands.

After parking the car in a downtown garage, they exited the parking lot and headed down the street, with address in hand.

"Whatever happened to the weddin' set I bought you?" Raylan asked, carrying Caitlin in her carrier.

Winona shot him a look.

"I'm just curious," he shot back. "I'm not expectin' you to use the same set, again." Then, he smiled. "As a matter of fact, I'd say our old rings are rather _'tarnished.'_

Then, he chuckled, amused with himself.

Winona smiled.

"I'm so glad you think that's funny," she said, "because I don't have the rings anymore."

He looked back over at her. "What? Did you hock 'em?"

"No," she shook her head. Then, she took in a deep cleansing breath of confession and answered, "I threw them into the ocean ... off a long fishing pier in Miami."

Raylan's eyes narrowed.

"I was mad at you at the time," she explained, "thought I never wanted to see you again. It all seems so foolish now."

Walking another half city block, she turned and asked him, "What happened to your band?"

"I wore it for a long time after you left," he said. "But one day, I finally took it off ... put it in a box I keep. I guess I'll give to Cait one of these days ... you know, when she's much older."

Finally, they reached their destination, Morris Jewelers. Once inside, a middle aged saleswoman welcomed them and asked if she could help them find something.

"Yeah," Raylan said, shifting his Stetson back further on his head. "We're lookin' for weddin' bands."

The woman then led them back to a case on the far right hand side of the store. They weaved through a sea of much younger couples shopping for a lot of bling. Finally, reaching their destination, they had a little more room to breathe.

"What kind of settings are you thinking about? Gold, platinum, white gold? Maybe silver?" she asked from behind the counter.

Raylan looked over at Winona.

"Oh, who is this?" the woman finally noticed Caitlyn.

"This is our daughter, Cait," Winona answered. "It's about time her folks got married," she smiled.

Then, she leaned into Raylan.

"I'd like to get platinum settings, if you don't mind," she said.

Raylan nodded. "Alright."

Directing his attention to the sale clerk, he asked, "You want to show us some platinum sets?"

The clerk directed them to the center of the case.

"Ohhhhh," Winona exclaimed. "These are _gorgeous_!"

Raylan was confused. "I would have thought you wanted diamonds."

She had wanted diamonds the last time they shopped for rings. And later, Gary Hawkins outdid Raylan by putting a 2 carat sparkler on her finger.

"No," she shook her head, zoning in on the sapphire and diamond rings. "I want something _very different_ this time."

The clerk chimed in. "Princess Kate has made the sapphire and diamond wedding rings very popular."

Raylan thought for a moment. "Didn't Princess Kate use Princess Diana's sapphire engagement ring? You saw how that worked out for her, didn't you?"

He alluded to the divorce of Prince Charles and Princess Di.

"Don't worry. I don't want one like hers," Winona assured him. "I want one like this."

And she pointed to an emerald cut sapphire ring with smaller sapphires inlaid in a channel on both sides of the center cut.

"This is called The Reese," the clerk explained, pulling the ring and handing it to Winona to try on. "It is inspired by Reese Witherspoon's ring."

"Oh, it's exquisite," Winona exclaimed, sliding it on her finger. It was a perfect fit. "Was this for Reese's second marriage?" she asked the clerk.

"Yes," the woman answered. "Hers was custom made with diamonds on the side. And we've been able to make a close approximation in all sapphires. We also carry the same ring in diamonds. The center stone is 2 and 3/4 carats."

"Second marriage?" Raylan asked, thinking this ring could be another bad omen.

Winona held her hand up to the light for Raylan to see and said, "Oh, yeah. Her first husband was that jerk actor who cheated on her."

"Wasn't that just awful?" the clerk joined in. "But she got it right with this last one."

Then, Winona offered, "I got it right the first time, but was too stupid to know it."

And she leaned into Raylan. He noticed the sapphires were the same color as Winona's eyes. And he could see she was 'in love' with it.

Cutting to the chase, he had to ask, "How much?"

The woman looked at the tag code.

"$13,000.00," she answered in an even tone. "It's an excellent investment."

Raylan shook his head with a smile. "Of course it is."

The ring cost 3 times what he had paid for her first set. But he did like the fact that the center stone was bigger than the one Gary bought for her. He had to hand it to Winona ... she had always had good taste.

Then, he stroked his chin. "Isn't the price of gold and platinum inflated because of the economy?"

The marshal was a lot smarter than he looked or sounded, than a man from Harlan.

"More so with gold and silver than with platinum," the woman explained. "And more so with diamonds than with sapphires. Given enough time, they'll all go up in value." Then, the woman added, "And you need to know that our appraiser is certified by the American Gem Society. That is very important."

He remembered the standard of the AGS with appraisals from some of his marshalling work over the years. Then, Raylan looked at Winona.

"You love it, don't you?" he asked.

"Raylan, it's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen," she said, bringing the tips of her fingers up near her heart. "I know ... it's a lot of money, but ..."

"No," he stopped her. "If you love it that much, I want you to have it. It _is_ a beautiful ring."

Then, he leaned down and whispered, "But you gotta me promise you'll never throw it away or pitch it in a waterway."

She laughed. "I promise." She sounded sincere.

Then, he looked up at the clerk. "Think you can find something for me to go with it ... at a _much_ lower price?"

The woman said, "I can get you out of here with a flat comfort ring, in a matching platinum setting, for less than $1,500.00."

"I'm buying yours," Winona announced to him with a smile.

Raylan shook his head with an equal smile. "Of course you are."

_(To be continued)_


	9. Chapter 9

Title: The Swear Jar 9/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The drive back to Lexington was a leisurely one. Winona sat in the backseat with baby Cait. While she understood the safety of rear facing car seats, she hated them, nonetheless. She couldn't see her baby's face from the front seat, and on a long drive like this one, it was a little too long for her baby to be out of her sight. She remembered hearing about these mirrors for rear facing car seats from her sister and thought she had better check into getting one.

Since the day Caitlyn was born, the baby was inseparable from her mother except for very short periods of time. The three times Raylan had watched the baby, alone, were the longest periods of time without her that Winona had yet experienced. Gayle's house was so crowded, and Winona didn't like being any more of a bother than she was. So, she and the baby stayed confined only to her bedroom, the kitchen, and the living room on a rare occasion. She relished the thought of her being able to find a place they could call their own.

At one point, Raylan glanced back at Winona through the rearview mirror and asked, "You're sure your sister's not due back 'til Thursday?"

"Yes," Winona nodded. "I talked to her last night, and I told her we were getting re-married."

"Yeah?" Raylan asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop, knowing he wasn't Gayle's favorite person in the world.

Not only was Raylan not Gayle's favorite person, he felt uncomfortable staying at her house. He did it, reluctantly, for two days earlier that week. But to stay there with Winona, playing house? It was giving him pause.

"Gayle's happy for us," Winona reported. "She said it would be the best thing for Cait if you and I work things out. I told her we have."

Shifting her weight forward in the seat and loosening the seatbelt at the shoulder, she added. "And I think she'll like having her house back."

Raylan smiled. "We'll stop off and pick up the Sunday classifieds, just as soon as we cross the County Line."

Making eye contact with Winona through the rearview mirror, he added. "And if you let me stop for lunch, I'll even hit a couple of places with you this afternoon ... that is, if you want."

"Really?" she smiled, placing her arms around his headrest and on his shoulders.

Reaching up, he took her left hand into his. "It's the least I can do."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

About an hour later, the three of them were sitting in small diner just outside of Lexington. Ordering off the lunch menu, Winona and Raylan drank coffee, as she combed through the Classifieds.

"My God," she exclaimed. "Rents are so sky high. We'd be much better off buying something."

"Yeah?" he asked, as he leaned over and unbuckled Caitlin from her infant seat.

He picked up the tiny girl, and flung a clean cloth diaper over his shoulder like a pro before bringing her up to his chest.

"Did you have a nice nap?" he asked the infant. "You were sawin' logs back there in the backseat."

He was very aware this was his last day off. It would be back to work the next morning, and he wanted to make sure the baby was awake long enough to be able to sleep at night.

"Oh, wow. Here's one," Winona said, pointing to the paper, "4 bedrooms, 3 baths with an office. It sits on a third of an acre, about 15 minutes from the Courthouse."

"How much?" Raylan asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

His soon-not-be ex-wife had a propensity to loving expensive things.

"$195, 000," she whispered, not wanting anyone in the diner to hear her.

Raylan raised an eyebrow.

"You're kiddin'?" he whispered back.

Winona pulled out her cell and started punching in numbers. While she was talking and making an appointment, the waitress came with their food. Raylan overheard her.

"I hate to ask you to do this, but would you change our order to a take-out?" he asked. "I'll make it worth your while." And he winked.

The waitress caught his drift.

"No problem," she said.

"Here," Raylan stopped her. "Take this and go ahead and ring us on up."

And he pulled out $30.00 in cash, double the amount of their $15.00 tab.

The waitress smiled a big smile and took the bills from his hand.

"I'll be right back," she said with enthusiasm in her voice, at her sudden luck.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Once again, Winona was sitting in the backseat of Raylan's car with the baby.

"Promise me you won't get your hopes up," Raylan said, on the way to meet a realtor. "It's probably too good to be true."

"I know," Winona said. "But what if it's not? We'll never know unless we check it out."

Navigating from the back seat, she directed him. "Turn left here ... and then, make a right."

A moment later, she said, "And take the third left onto Woodview Drive."

He followed her instructions, looking around at the neighborhood. It was nice. Quiet with lots of trees. He liked trees.

"459, that's it on the right," she said, pointing to a brick, split-level Tudor style home.

Raylan pulled up into the driveway where they saw a _For Sale_ sign on the nicely manicured lawn. It seemed they arrived before the realtor. He stepped out of the car and pulled a flyer out of the drop box, and sat back down in the driver's seat of his car, passing the paper back to Winona.

"Oh, wow," she said. "4 bedrooms, 2 full baths/2 half baths, sun deck. Built in 2005. Attached double car garage. 3,219 square feet. Lot size is 14,520 square feet. Alarm system."

"We want to make sure that's not Wynn Duffy's alarm company," Raylan quipped.

"No shit," Winona agreed and then continued. "Updated kitchen with stainless steel appliances. Laundry room off the kitchen. California closets. New carpeting, paint. 30 year roof."

"Winona," Raylan stopped her, "that's a buck for the _Swear Jar_." Then, he changed his tone. "As much as I'd love to buy this house for you, and without lookin' at the inside, it appears to be a fine, fine house ... I'm not sure I can qualify for it on my salary. I mean, you're not workin'. And I'm not so sure you should rush back to work, until Caitlin's a little older."

She leaned forward. "Raylan, I have some money for the down, and then some. Gary had a life insurance policy, and I was the beneficiary. I paid off our house and put it on the market, and it sold about six months ago. It had acquired some equity, and I need to roll that equity into another house, or I will be taxed on the capital gains. Honey, something in this price range would be perfect. Our payment would be little to none."

This was all news to Raylan, that Gary had left her some money. It also explained why she had been financially able to up and leave her job at the Courthouse the way she did. She could afford to leave. He'd never asked her about her finances before because it was none of his business. But now that they were going to be married, he could understand that some of her financial dealings would now come to light. He had a few of his own.

"I've got some money in savings," he volunteered. "I can put some money down, as well." He let out a freeing sigh. "I also own my Aunt Helen's place out on Indian Line. I've got a renter in there now ... it brings in a little rental income. And then, there's Arlo's place. It was confiscated by the Marshals Service, but when they're all done with it, it will revert to me as next of kin. More income property."

"Wow," Winona cooed in a playful way. "I'm marrying a real estate mogul," she continued with a smile.

"Not hardly," he responded, shaking his head and raking his fingers through his hair. "Ownin' property in Harlan hardly does a real estate mogul make."

It was at about that time he heard a silver SUV drive up and park in front of the house. A heavy set, well-dressed middle-aged woman came walking up the driveway. Mrs. Hastings introduced herself, made a fuss over their baby, and passed out her business cards. Then, she led the little family into the house of a tour.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That night, Winona lay in bed. Back at her sister's house, she had given Caitlyn a bath, nursed her, and when the babe was fast asleep, she gently placed Caitlin in the bassinette in her bedroom. Winona read while Raylan was in the bathroom taking a quick shower.

A little while later, Raylan came into the bedroom, hair damp, in his boxers and t-shirt. He set the alarm on his cell phone and placed it on the night stand closest to _'his side'_ of the bed before climbing in.

"It was fortunate we were able to rent the house while we're waitin' for the escrow to go through," he said, speaking lowly so as not to wake the baby. "I can pick up the keys tomorrow and call to have the utilities switched over. I also want to run it through our system to make sure it's all clear. You know, just for grins."

"I'll say it was fortunate, although the baby and I don't have much to move in," she said, closing her book. "How about you? Did you buy anything substantial since you moved out of the motel?"

"No," he said. "You can have fun buyin' whatever you want," he said, pulling the covers up over him. "All I need is a comfortable bed and a big screen TV."

She laughed. "Oh, yes. A big screen is our number one priority." Then she smiled, I'll get you a nice one for the living room, but no TV allowed in the bedroom. The bedroom is for sleeping and sex, only. And besides, a TV in the bedroom reminds me of a motel room."

"Do say?" he said, turning off the light and extending his arm out, an invitation for her to come in closer and snuggle.

She immediately responded, laying her head on his chest, gently stroking his arm.

"Speaking of sex, do you think I could persuade you into letting me have my way with you?" she asked.

"I feel kinda funny doin' it here in your sister's house," he responded, slowly stroking her hair with his fingertips. "But maybe you could help me get my mind off of my surroundin's?"

As she moved closer towards him, he wrapped his long arms around her, and in one swift movement, lifted her up on top of him. Her lavender fragrant hair hung down, surrounding both of their faces, and she leaned down for a sultry kiss. As her hands began to work their magic on his body, her body ached for his. Their kiss deepened and their breathing became heavier. Winona began writhing with slow, rhythmic movements, and he reacted in kind.

She had taken his mind off of his surroundings, alright. At one point, Raylan had the fleeting thought that it was a good thing they were getting married soon because they could hardly keep their hands off one another.

_(To be continued ...)_


	10. Chapter 10

Title: The Swear Jar 10/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The next morning, Raylan stepped off the elevator at the Court House, only to be greeted by his boss.

"Well, good mornin', Sunshine," Art announced with a smile, his voice echoing through the floor lobby.

Caught by surprise, Raylan decided to push back a little by answering with, "Not bad, for a man who's about to tie the knot again."

Very surprised, indeed, Art responded by asking, "You and Winona? Hell, you should have taken time off for baby sittin' duty before now, if that's all it took."

As Raylan walked towards the Marshals Service doors, he coolly pointed out, "That's a dollar for Caitlyn's _Swear Jar_, Uncle Art."

Art reached into the back pocket of his slacks for his wallet, as he walked beside Raylan, and pulled out a twenty which he promptly handed over to his deputy marshal.

"Put me on the same payment plan that Tim's on, will you?" Art spouted off, "Although, I'm not so sure we should be playin' this game when we're here on duty, Raylan. I don't want us to go all soft like the Tele Tubbies ... you know what I mean? We've got to maintain our edge, not to mention our dignity."

"Hey," Raylan interjected, "I won't tell Winona, if you won't. This whole _Swear Jar_ thing was her idea, not mine ... although I do appreciate the spirit of the thing."

"Yeah, it might be different if Caitlin had been a boy," Art nodded. "Daughters are ones to behold and protect."

When they reached the doors, Art placed a steady hand on Raylan's shoulder and put out his other hand for a shake.

"In all seriousness, congratulations," the elder Chief said with a smile. "I always hoped you two would get back together. I like Winona. I think she's good for you, too."

"Thanks," Raylan returned the smile, along with the firm handshake. "This last week was good for us, with the baby and all."

As the two walked past Rachael's still vacant desk, Tim caught Raylan in his peripheral vision.

"Hey, welcome back!" Tim greeted. "We need to talk."

"I'll leave you two to catch up," Art said. "I need to go to my office and get ready for a conference call."

After Art left, the two deputy marshals continued their conversation.

"About what?" Raylan raised an eyebrow. "And thank you, by the way."

"For what?" Tim questioned, looking confused.

"For welcomin' me back," Raylan stated the obvious.

Tim shook his head with a smirk. "You're welcome," he said, "but you owe me one."

"For what?" Raylan echoed, including the look of confusion on his face.

"For babysitting Ava Crowder, for one," Tim answered, very matter-of-factly. "You do know she still has the hots for you, don't you?"

Raylan screwed up his face. "No, she doesn't," he answered the charge. "That's just her way to keep us off track from findin' for Boyd. You did find him while I was gone, didn't you?"

"Nope," Tim informed him. "I even went out to Noble's Holler to talk to Limehouse, and he claims to know nothing of Boyd's whereabouts."

Shifting his weight and placing his hands on his hips, Raylan asked, "Did you believe him?"

"Don't know if I believed him or not," Tim began, "but I enjoyed the hell out of his pulled pork sandwich. Piles of juicy, dark meat with that crispy fat and just the right amount of sauce. Not too little, not so much that it was swimming in sauce. We just don't have barbeque that good here in Lexington, or anywhere else that I know of."

"Hey," Raylan held up a finger. "That's a dollar against your credit in the _Swear Jar_."

"My account should be set for a while longer," Tim reminded him.

"It is," Raylan said, "but just so you know, I do keep count." Then, he changed the subject. "Now back to Ava. I also think you're mistaken about her intent because I set her straight about me and her, before I left last week, under no uncertain terms. I even suggested that you were available."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Tim shook his head. "Not interested. She's cute, but she shoots people."

"You shoot people," Raylan noted.

"True, but I don't usually know the people I shoot," Tim shot back.

Raylan sighed. "Well, shit!" he exclaimed. "I guess I need to talk to her to see if I can get her to tell me where Boyd is."

"Uh, you just cussed," Tim pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I took your lead and paid up for the foreseeable future," Raylan answered. "By the way, so did Art."

"Hey, you're back!" Rachael said, coming into the office for the morning. "Couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Would you like me to ride shotgun with you when you go out to talk to Ava? I could protect you from her womanly wiles," his fellow deputy marshal teased with a smile.

"That might not be a bad idea," Raylan concurred.

"I think it's a fine idea because I sure as hell don't want to go," Tim declared. Then, he glanced over at Rachael. "Ol' Raylan here was trying to use me as decoy with the widow Crowder while he was on vacation." And he followed up his declaration with a fake shudder.

"One, that's another buck off of your tab, and two, who asked you to go?" Raylan raised his eyebrows. "I'd much rather go with Rachael."

"Good," Rachael said. "I'll go and grab our vests."

"What do we need them for?" Raylan questioned her action.

"Aren't you afraid Ava's gonna shoot you?" Tim quipped to Raylan. "Because you should be."

"We _are_ going to Harlan," she said. "That's the new standard procedure after you and then, Tom Bergen was shot."

"Yeah, you're right," Raylan concurred, remembering the promise me made to Winona, and now, he had Caitlin to consider as well. "While you're doin' that, I'll give Ava a call."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Once inside the Lincoln, Raylan asked Rachael, "Would you mind if we made a stop on the way out of town? I need to pick up some keys from a realtor."

"Are you moving out from over the college bar?" Rachael asked, buckling herself in.

Raylan looked over at her, as he was turning the ignition.

"Winona and I are gettin' remarried," he announced. "And that reminds me, I need to run an address though our Records database to make sure the house is _'all clear'_."

"Never a bad idea, and ... congratulations!" she smiled. "Did you ask her over this past week?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I can't explain what changed between us, other than Caitlin sure has put everything into perspective ... for both of us."

Rachael chuckled. "Babies have a way of doing that. You've sure got yourself a cutie."

He gave a tight-lipped smile. "We like her."

"How about we celebrate by driving through that Starbucks coming up on the right?" she asked, pointing across the oncoming intersection. "My treat."

Teasingly, he said, "Well then, I'll have to order the biggest, most expensive drink on the menu."

"You do that," she said. "I think I can handle it."

Well caffeinated and about ninety minutes later, the two arrived in Harlan at Johnny Crowder's bar.

"Raylan Givens is in the house!" Johnny Crowder announced as the two marshals entered the bar.

At eleven o'clock in the morning, there was already a pretty good crowd of regulars in the house, as well. Raylan scanned the room until he spied Ava behind the bar at the far end.

"I'll sit over here by the door, in case you need me," Rachael suggested with a nod.

As he walked over toward the bar, Ava was waiting for him.

"I'm so glad you called," she smiled. "That other marshal told me you'd be back in town today."

She reached over and seductively ran her fingers down the buttons of his shirt, actually unbuttoning one.

"I am officially off the market," Raylan informed her in a low voice, re-buttoning his shirt. "Winona and I are gonna be remarried."

"Well, congratulations," Ava said with a sultry smile, her tone noticeably different. "Can I buy you a drink to celebrate?"

"Only if it's non-alcoholic. How about a Coke?" he said, "I'm on duty. And thank you for the congratulations."

After pouring him a glass from the fountain, she walked back around the bar and came up closer, alongside of him. Then, she wrapped her arms around him.

"You're not _officially_ off the market," she cooed. "I mean, you're not married ... _yet_."

The marshal rolled his eyes, all too familiar with Ava's flirty tactics that were once so flattering. But since she had taken up with Boyd, Ava's girlish innocence was long gone. It had been replaced with a hardened edge that wasn't there even after she shot Bowman. It was as if she had taken to Boyd's criminal ways like a kid to a carnival, chocked full of rides and cotton candy. The little girl who had lived up the street from him and, who always played like she was so tough, was no longer playing. No, little Ava was now running whores, selling weed, harboring criminals, and Lord only knew what else.

"I'm still in love with Winona," he said, followed by a big exhale. "And she's the mother of our beautiful baby. So, yeah, I _am_ officially _off the market_."

Ava turned him on his bar stool so that he faced her, and then, she climbed up on top of his lap so that she straddled him. Raylan nervously glanced across the room at Rachael, who was trying hard to stifle a laugh, shaking her head at the predictable predicament Raylan found himself in. Rachael couldn't help but think that Art and Tim were going to love this story.

As Raylan placed his hands on Ava's upper arms and braced his elbows to create some distance, Ava gave him a devilish little smile.

"You say no, but your body says yes," she purred in his ear, referring to his involuntary reaction to her. "We could have your Bachelor Party right here and now, and I could give you a lap dance in front of all these people."

He could only imagine that she had learned a thing or two from running the whores.

"Ava," he said, quickly dismissing the thought. He grabbed her by the waist, lifted her up, and placed her over on top of the barstool, next to him, in one quick motion. "Where's Boyd?"

Still flirting, she answered, "I told you. We broke up. I don't know where he is."

"Did you shoot him, Ava?" he said with a big smile, half of him not kidding.

Keeping her dreamy eyes fixated on Raylan, Ava called across the room. "Johnny! Raylan here wants to know if I shot Boyd."

Jokingly, Johnny answered, "I don't know. Did you?"

"Funny, Johnny," she answered, not taking her eyes off of Raylan. She lightly ran her fingertips seductively down the side of his chiseled jaw line.

Raylan swallowed hard.

"He wants to know where Boyd is," she continued speaking with Johnny while a hundred percent of her attention was focused on Raylan.

Johnny walked closer towards Raylan from behind the bar, hugging the counter for support.

Leaning in a little, Johnny said, "You didn't hear this from me, and neither did you, Ava, but I hear he had some business to take care of in Tennessee."

"Thanks, Johnny," Raylan said, keeping his voice down.

After Johnny left to take care of a customer at the other end of the bar, Raylan asked Ava, "His business wouldn't have happened to be with Rodney Dunham ... would it?"

"Hotrod Dunham? Out of Memphis?" she answered him with a question. "Well, I wouldn't know. I told you we broke up. I haven't heard from him, and I don't expect to."

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Raylan.

"I gotta go," he said, abruptly standing up as if a switch had suddenly flipped.

He leaned over and gently kissed a confused Ava on the side of the cheek, thinking it was better to leave her with a little sugar, rather than vinegar ... something his late Aunt Helen had taught him well.

"Thanks for the Coke," he said in parting.

And with a renewed bounce in his step, he collected his partner and made good time on the drive back to the Court House.

_(To be continued ...)_


	11. Chapter 11

Title: The Swear Jar 11/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

A/N: So sorry to be so long in between chapters. Real life got in the way, big time. Hope you enjoy this one.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Boyd's in Tennessee?" Rachael asked, more than a little surprised. "Isn't that a little risky for him to leave his Harlan stronghold ... unattended?"

Rachael knew Boyd's MO. All the marshals in the Lexington office knew Boyd Crowder's MO.

"Maybe he didn't," Raylan answered, not having considered that angle, "leave it unattended."

His thoughts then immediately went to Ava. If anyone was looking after Boyd's interests in his absence, it had to be Ava.

"My instincts tell me that there's a good chance Boyd's in custody." Raylan's mind was racing ninety miles an hour. "And Ava's been warmin' up to me to throw me off the scent. I have to admit it worked, but for opposite reasons than you might think. It worked on Tim for those same reasons."

"I can see a reason for hesitance in falling for the charms of Miss Ava." Rachael smiled. "And see? There's hope for you and Tim, yet."

Raylan smiled back at her, giving her a self-depricating _'courtesy'_ laugh, at his own expense.

After they arrived back to the Court House, Rachael headed straight for her desk and jumped on the computer, while Raylan went downstairs to 'Records.'

"I ran that address you asked me to," a young, blonde, female clerk caught Raylan's attention as he entered the department. "The house is all clear, but you were right about the alarm system."

She then handed him a report printout.

He studied the piece of paper. "Wynn Duffy," he said to himself. "Thanks, Kelly," Raylan smiled, and headed back, towards the floor elevators.

Before heading upstairs to his floor, Raylan pulled out his cell phone and called the realtor who showed him and Winona the house the day before.

"Mrs. Hastings," he began when she answered her phone. "I came across a little problem with the house we're buyin', but I think you can fix it. We need the alarm system and monitoring company changed over right away. I can't do it because the house is not yet in our names." After listening to her response, he said, "Yeah, I want you to set it up with Apollo Alarms and Monitoring in Lexington. Yep, there are several marshals out of this office who highly recommend Apollo."

Raylan knew exactly how to play his realtor. She was thrilled to receive such a useful tip. An alarm company recommended by the Marshal's Service was insider information. Indeed, she would use the prized information many times over in her business. In return, she gladly promised to have the alarm and monitoring contract switched over right away, and Raylan had no doubt she would do exactly as she promised. And Wynn Duffy would be out of his new house.

A short time later, when Raylan made it back to his office, Rachael was ready and waiting for him.

"I've got to hand it to you. You were right," she said, handing the devil his due in the form of a printout. "Boyd was picked up by the Marshal Service in Nashville for trafficking. Unlike _'The Blue Grass State,' 'The Volunteer_ _State'_ _does_ care about the weed business."

"Oh," Raylan said with a twinge of sarcasm and a nod, "_they_ _care._"

"So, Crowder got picked up in Tennessee?" Seated next to Rachael's desk, Tim overheard his partners. "You know, they'll put him away and throw away the key."

Entering the office front doors after an early lunch, Art overheard _all_ of them.

"Sounds like all our Boyd Crowder problems are over," Art added with a satisfied smile.

"But, Art," Raylan looked quizzically at his boss, "I need to find out if he was the one who busted Arlo out of jail." He then added, "I'd like to go to Nashville and interview him in custody."

"You know what?" Art asked with a frustrated sigh, glaring daggers at Raylan. "You astound me. Here, you've been lookin' for a way to put your old man behind bars ever since you were transferred back to Kentucky. AND you've been on the case to put Boyd Crowder behind bars from day one, as well. Now, that they're _both_ behind bars ... have you ever heard the sayin' about _lettin' sleepin' dogs lie_?"

"Uh, yeah," Raylan answered, with a note of sarcasm in his voice. "It's true I always wanted to be the one to put Arlo back behind bars. But not for _murder_. Arlo didn't commit those murders. You know that. You know the cast of characters involved."

Raylan was referring to the murders of Boyd's associate, Derek aka "Devil" Lennox, and Kentucky State Trooper Tom Bergen.

"Be that as it may, Arlo confessed. So, in the eyes of the law, _he did_ commit those murders. And now Boyd's bein' held in Tennessee for traffickin' weed," Art recanted. "It's not perfect justice, but it is justice all the same. And finally, Boyd's off the streets and out of our hair. Not to mention, I don't have to spend one more dime of our precious investigatory resources on that scoundrel."

Then, Art impatiently crossed his arms in front of him. "This is a _good thing_, Raylan. What are you gonna do now with all your free time?"

Raylan pondered the thought. It was a strange one at that. The look on his face was one of a man having his professional mind blown.

"You've been fighting this Crowder thing for so long, it's kind of hard to give it up," Tim pointed out the obvious to his colleague.

Tim knew all about having trouble letting go, first hand, from his fighting days in Afghanistan.

"Maybe," Raylan acquiesced.

Suddenly, Raylan found his self-questioning his thought to go to Tennessee and question Boyd ... to get to him while he was down. But then, he immediately thought that Art was right. Why poke that sleeping dog? Boyd would spend mandatory time in jail for drug trafficking based on stiff and unyielding Federal sentencing guidelines. No plea bargains or legal maneuvering on this deal.

Art put a fatherly hand on Raylan's shoulder. "Don't you have a weddin' to get ready for?"

"You're gettin' married?" Tim asked, the only one of the four who didn't know.

"He's re-marryin' Winona," Art smiled with approval. "Gonna be a real family man."

"Well, congratulations!" Tim smiled. "And here, I thought you were just tryin' to avoid the advances of the widow Crowder."

Rachael chuckled.

"No," Raylan smiled. "I left her all for you," he bantered back with Tim.

"Did you leave me that good lookin' bartender, too?" Tim bantered back. "I'll just live off your scraps."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Back at Winona's sister's house, Raylan brought some lasagna and an antipasto home from one of Winona's favorite restaurants. After dinner, Raylan grabbed a quick shower and changed into a tee-shirt and jeans. He then went to the fridge where he cracked open a beer and made his way back to Winona's bedroom. There, in dimmed light, she was seated in the rocking chair nursing Caitlyn to sleep. He stood there silently propped up in the doorway and watched. It was a beautiful sight.

At some point, Winona noticed him there and smiled.

"How was your first day back to work after our little vacation?" she asked.

"Oh, it was a day," he said.

"Is that all I'm going to get out of you?" she tried to keep her tone even, as Caitlyn was just about sound to sleep.

"I found out Boyd Crowder's in custody in Nashville," he said, taking a long pull from his bottle. "I'm thinkin' I need to talk to him about Arlo's last prison break. Art doesn't want me to go. It's not in the budget."

Winona quietly stood up and gently placed the baby in her bassinette. She then turned around and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Boyd's not an average felon to you. Never has been," she observed. "I know you and he dug coal together, but why the continued interest in him?"

"I guess part of it is I know Arlo didn't kill those two men he confessed to killin'," Raylan began. "And I think Boyd definitely killed one and maybe knows who killed Tom Bergen. But there is somethin' more."

Winona could always read him.

"Boyd saved my life," he confessed.

"You never told me that," she said. "When?"

"A couple of times," Raylan answered after taking another swig, finishing off the bottle. "One time was in the mine. There was a cave in, and I was trapped down in a minin' shaft with 3 other men. We were runnin' out of air, chokin' on coal dust. Boyd blew a hole through a parallel shaft and got us all out of there."

He then took a seat next to Winona on the edge of the bed.

"I never did like workin' down in the mines," he recanted. "But after the cave in, I never went back down, again. Aunt Helen wouldn't hear of it, and I quit."

Winona reached over and began rubbing circles on Raylan's back.

"And what was another time?" she asked.

Raylan let out a sigh. Her touch felt good to him.

"It was that time we were in that shoot out over at Boyd's daddy's place," he reminisced. "I told you about that one."

"Yeah, you did," she remembered.

Then, she got up on her knees behind him, and she began to rub on his shoulders, kneading the stress out of his taut muscles.

"That feels so good," he whispered, hanging his head, giving her full access to his long neck.

"Do you feel an obligation to Boyd?" she asked.

"I dunno," Raylan answered with is eyes now closed, enjoying the massage. "Unlike Arlo, Boyd's always cared somethin' about me. He's had my back. I know he's a lyin', cheatin', murderin' no good son of a bitch. But there's somethin' about him that had a redemptive quality. At least, until now. I guess that's what I'm havin' trouble tryin' to reconcile."

As Winona continued to work her magic on his shoulders, she leaned forward and whispered, "Maybe you need closure. Maybe one day while we're movin', you could take a couple of days off. And on one of those days, you could drive out to Nashville and get yourself some closure with Boyd. That way, it wouldn't be on the Service. Just an old friend visitin' a felon in custody."

Shifting his weight, Raylan looked into Winona's blue eyes with a deep intensity.

"You are amazin', did you know that?" he asked, swallowing down a lump that had formed in his throat.

The woman's insight into him touched him very deeply.

She reached over and brushed his hair away from his eyes, over his furrowed brow with her fingertips.

"I know I love you," she said. "And I want you to be happy and to be at peace with things, with your past."

Raylan took her into his arms and gazed into her eyes. Then, he began to nuzzle down the side of her face and down her long neck.

"I love you, too," he whispered between kisses.

As he reached her sculpted clavicle and slowly headed into her cleavage, she threw her head back and her chest heaved. Then, she reached up and pulled him down, on top of her, wrapping her legs around him.

They kissed, and they moved as their clothing became unbuttoned, unzipped, discarded. He wanted her with a new level of urgency, trust, and intimacy than he'd never experienced before. She felt it, too.

They got what they gave, and they had never before given the other more trust and truth and understanding than on this particular night.

_(To be continued...) _


	12. Chapter 12

Title: The Swear Jar 12/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

A/N: So sorry to be so long in between chapters. It continues to happen ... real life getting in the way. Hoping you all can hang in there with me ... I will finish this one when it's time.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was Wednesday morning when the realtor called to notify Raylan the alarm system company had been changed over. He later stopped by her office to pick up the new key fobs and temporary alarm codes and instructions. Later, that very evening after work, he and Winona began moving their belongings into their new house, before Gayle returned Thursday night with the family. They began by moving Winona's clothes and some of Caitlyn's things out of Gail's house. Then, with the baby in tow, they made a run to Wal-Mart to pick up some food and things for the bathrooms and kitchen they would need. And beer.

Raylan took that Thursday and Friday off from work to move some of the bigger items. Winona had a bed, night stands, a sofa, lamps, dining room table, and some chairs in storage. Raylan took care of moving those items into their new house in a rented U-Haul truck. There was also a dresser and a china cabinet in the storage unit, but Raylan decided that the larger, heavier items could wait until the weekend when he would bribe Tim with some beer and pizza to come over and help him. Raylan had helped Tim move into a house from an apartment, a little more than a year ago. He figured Tim owed him one.

Raylan was very happy their new house came with a refrigerator and washer/dryer. Winona also had these items in storage. She could decide later which ones she wanted in the house and which she could either sell or give to her sister in appreciation for her hospitality.

That same Thursday, Raylan also made time to run over to his place and quickly packed up some of his clothes and personal things. He had made the decision to keep the room for those times when he was working a tough case and wanted to keep his work away from his girls. He and Winona discussed this at length, and she also agreed to stay with her sister whenever he had to go out of town or work on a dangerous case. Protecting Caitlyn suddenly put their intentions and motivations into a common, razor sharp focus, making things so much clearer. Protecting Cait was bigger than the both of them, something upon which they would both always agree.

After a solid 36-hours of moving, it was still early evening. Raylan and Winona finished an impromptu meal from Subway for dinner. Afterwards, Raylan went to the refrigerator, cracked open a beer, and joined Winona on the sofa in their beautiful, new family room. She was singing to their baby who was just about asleep.

"We need a baby monitor in this house. One of those video monitors," Raylan suggested after taking a pull on the beer bottle, interrupting her lullaby. "This place is too big to see what's goin' on with Cait at all times."

Then, changing the subject, he asked, "Are things okay with your sister with you movin' out?"

Winona smiled and looked down at her sleeping baby. Mission accomplished.

"I think that's a good idea about the monitor," she said softly. "And I already told you. Gayle's all for us being our own little family."

Then, without missing a beat, she looked over at him and added, "You _are_ going to take a shower before going to bed, aren't you?"

Her question had the tone of a strong suggestion.

"I guess I do smell pretty bad," he said, looking over at her. "I worked hard today."

"I know you did," she said. "And normally, I kinda like you're sweaty smell," she smiled suggestively at him. "It's just that I put brand new sheets on our bed."

"You got it," he said, quickly standing up. "I'm off to christen our new shower. Care to join me?"

He looked over at his daughter who was fast asleep.

"Would you take a rain check?" she answered with a question. "But I'll meet you in the bedroom?"

"Alright," he said, peeling off his t-shirt, as he headed for their bedroom.

About 20 minutes later, a freshly-showered Raylan emerged from their master bathroom and into their dimly lit bedroom, where steam wafted into the room, smelling of sandalwood soap. He climbed into the bed beside Winona, who was propped up on pillows against the headboard, reading.

"Better?" he asked, referring to his smell.

"Much," she said.

As he stretched out on his back, he let out a long, low groan.

"Tired?" she asked. "I know I am. It's been a long day."

"Exhausted is more like it. And sore," he added with his eyes closed. "That hot shower felt good. We've got good water pressure."

"You did _all_ of the heavy lifting. If I wasn't so tired, I'd offer to give you a massage," she sweetly said. "I promise you a rain check on that one, too ... soon."

"Sounds good," he mumbled, "because right now, I'm too tired to turn over, even for a massage."

She reached over and placed her hand over his.

"Have I thanked you for all this? For moving us into this wonderful house," she asked, closing her book. "It feels so good for our little family to be _'home._'"

"You're welcome," he mumbled with a little smile. "It does feel good."

He turned his hand over, taking hers in his, and he gave hers a loving squeeze.

With her other hand, Winona placed her book on the nightstand. Before she could turn off her reading light, soft snoring was coming from Raylan's direction.

"Raylan? Honey?" she asked, trying to wake him.

There was no response, other than continued soft lumbering. Finally, she sat straight up in bed and braced her arms and her hands on his shoulder.

"On your side, Cowboy," she said, as she pulled him up, towards her.

She had learned from many years of experience in sleeping with this man that, whenever he was too tired or had too much to drink, Raylan Givens could saw logs like a lumber jack ... and the longer it went on, the louder it became. She knew to nip this in the bud before he woke the baby.

"Huh?" he muttered, already disoriented.

"Roll over on your side. Babe ... you're snoring," she continued to help him roll over. "That's it," she said with encouragement.

After he was repositioned on his side, she covered him with the new linens and leaned over and kissed him on the side of his forehead. Lying on their sides, face to face, it wasn't long until Winona joined him and Cait in slumber.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Very early the next morning, Raylan's cell phone alarm went off at 4 a.m. He grabbed the phone from the nightstand and quickly turned it off. He quietly stepped out of bed and grabbed a few things, leaving the bedroom so as not to wake his girls. Hurriedly, he dressed in the guest bath, off of the living room and took off to start his day, well before the sun was up. But before leaving, he left a rapidly scribbled note on the counter for Winona.

Today was the day he decided to take her suggestion and go and talk to Boyd ... as a private citizen.

He stopped at a nearby 24-hour convenience store, in his new neighborhood, for an extra-large cup of black coffee and a cheese Danish before getting on the Expressway and headed towards Elizabethtown. Then, he would continue on to Bowling Green and then, straight down south to Nashville.

Like threading a needle, he made it through Bowling Green well before the morning rush hour. Glancing at his watch, he knew he wouldn't do as well in making it to Nashville. After allowing himself only one stop for some more coffee and a pee break, he drove on into Tennessee and stopped at a coffee shop just north of Goodlettsville. He'd have an hour until 9 a.m., so he sat himself down for a leisurely breakfast of steak and eggs and some more coffee.

Leaving the coffee shop at 9, he missed most of the downtown traffic and made it to the Federal Prison Bureau at about 9:20 a.m. Visiting hours were from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. He went to the Prison Clerk and filled out the necessary paperwork to visit Boyd. At 10:30 a.m., Raylan was directed to a room that had a large glass partition and a table and chair set up, where visitors could talk to the prisoners on a monitored telephone.

Raylan took a seat, was directed to remove his hat, and he waited until a very unkempt Boyd dressed in light grey prison garb was eventually brought in and directed to take the seat in front of him. As Boyd lowered himself into the seat, Boyd grabbed the phone receiver on his side of the glass.

"As I live and breathe," Boyd began, "I never thought I'd see you here."

"Hello, Boyd," Raylan gave a tight-lipped grin.

"What the hell are you doin' here, Raylan," Boyd tried again.

"I would have been here sooner, but it took me a little while to find you," Raylan answered. "It's not like Ava was any help."

This time, it was Boyd's mouth that tightened. "How's she doin'?"

"I dunno," Raylan answered. "You know how she is. Kinda hard to tell."

Boyd was well aware of Raylan's familiarity with Ava.

"I hear they got you up on Federal drug charges," Raylan cut to the chase. "Mandatory sentencing."

"Twenty-five year minimum, no chance for parole or early release," Boyd recanted.

Then, Boyd rocked forward on his elbows, closer to the glass.

"Rodney Dunham framed me," Boyd said in a low voice, "to cut me completely out."

Raylan didn't respond and looked disinterested.

Then, Boyd continued. "The Crowders are not very well-liked in the state of Tennessee. My daddy screwed over a lot of people, and I'm payin' for it on the inside."

"What are you tryin' to say?" Raylan raised his eyebrows.

Boyd let out a sigh. "I want to be transferred back to Kentucky."

Raylan shook his head. "Kentucky doesn't give a damn about weed charges. You know that."

"I know," Boyd nodded. "So I was thinkin' ... maybe I need to come clean and confess to a crime."

Raylan's posture stiffened, as he tightened his grip around the receiver.

"I'm listenin'," he said.

"Well, murder trumps weed, right?" Boyd asked.

This time, it was Raylan who let out a pent up sigh.

"What are you sayin' here?" he asked, in no mood to be playing games.

"You and I both know that Arlo didn't kill, Devil," Boyd began.

Raylan kept his mouth shut. He wanted Boyd to be the one to say it.

After a long beat of silence, Boyd finally added, "Arlo didn't kill Devil. I did."

"Can you prove it?" Raylan asked.

"I can produce the gun," Boyd said with confidence. "I'd rather serve time on a murder rap in Kentucky than stay here."

"There wouldn't be anything else you'd like to _'unburden' _yourself from, would there, Boyd?" Raylan asked.

"If you're talkin' about your State Trooper friend," Boyd continued, "I told you. I was out cold. I didn't do it, and I didn't see who did."

"What about Arlo escapin' from prison?" Raylan finally asked. Not as shocking as what Boyd wanted to talk about, but it was the reason why he drove all this way.

"What?" Boyd asked. "Now, I need to ask you, what are you talkin' about?"

Raylan shifted his long, lanky frame in the chair.

"Arlo walked out of prison. Ended up over at Ava's lookin' for Helen," Raylan went on. "But the question is ... how did he get from point A to point B?"

"Well, what did Arlo say?" Boyd asked.

"He said he doesn't remember," Raylan recanted.

"I can assure you that I had nothin' to do with it," Boyd said, staring intently at Raylan. "You know he's been off his meds in prison, right? He's gotten a lot worse."

"Yeah, I saw that," Raylan nodded, "when we brought him back into custody."

"Now, back to what I confessed to earlier," Boyd redirected their conversation, "I'm beggin' you to get me out of here. I'll serve my time closer to home, with my own people."

"Sorry, Boyd," Raylan answered. "I'm here as an old family friend, as a private citizen. I can't get involved in your shit. Other than to tell you that, if you did confess to a murder, can you prove it? Because if you can, you need to tell your Public Defender and let him or her go through all the proper channels."

Then, Raylan continued. "And by the way? If you have any thoughts of gettin' out of jail _sooner_ if you go back to Kentucky? You won't. You're a three felony strike loser, Boyd. The Blue Grass State will throw away the key on you, too."

"I know," Boyd nodded, keeping his cool, "but I'd still rather take my chances closer to home."

"Is it really _that bad_ here?" Raylan's eyes narrowed their focus.

He looked Boyd up and down. Boyd didn't look any worse for the wear ... except for his being atypically unkempt.

Boyd leaned in and spoke in a very low voice.

"I haven't slept a wink since they brought me here. I've had to be ... constantly on guard," he explained. "I ain't gonna be some Bubba's bitch. Do you hear me?"

Raylan was very quiet. Not wanting to see anyone in Boyd's position, all he could say was, "Yeah."

And then after a beat, Raylan added, "You really do need to talk to your lawyer. Your confession, our conversation, is bein' taped."

Yet another beat passed before Raylan said, "You also gotta tell your lawyer where to find the murder weapon. It's your only chance because you are correct. Murder does trump weed. But I cannot be involved any further. Understand?"

"I understand," Boyd shook his head.

Boyd Crowder had met Chief Deputy Marshal Art Mullen on more than one occasion. He could only assume that his being arrested in Tennessee on drug charges was an answer to that man's prayers.

"But Raylan," Boyd stared intently into the eyes of his friend, "if we're bein' recorded ... then, I hate to be the one to point this out to you, but you _are _involved."

Raylan's stare could have bored a hole, right back into Boyd's eyes.

"Shit!" The word escaped Raylan's lips.

And then, Raylan thought to himself ... so much for coming there as a _'private citizen.'_

_(To be continued ...)_


	13. Chapter 13

Title: The Swear Jar 13/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Raylan made it home by the late afternoon. Met with silence when he came through the front door of his new home, he made his way to the bedroom. He found Winona taking a nap and Caitlyn awake in her bassinette, cooing and looking at her hands.

"Hey," he smiled down at his daughter.

He took off his hat and placed his keys in the pockets of his jeans. And he bent down to pick up the tiny girl. As he brought her up to his shoulder, he grabbed a blanket and pacifier from her bassinette and draped the blanket over his other shoulder. Then, he turned around and grabbed a diaper and a package of wipes, and he carried his daughter out to the living room so her momma could get some more sleep.

"Are you havin' a good day?" he asked his girl, as he walked into the other room.

He sat down and placed her down on the sofa beside him. Then, he lifted up her little gown and used a finger to test her diaper. Dry. She seemed to be perfectly content. Picking her back up, he settled into the corner of the sofa, toeing his boots off. He then placed his socked feet flat on the sofa with his knees bent, providing perfect, upright support for little Cait's back and head.

The babe stuffed her tiny fist into her mouth.

"Does your hand taste good?" Raylan asked.

Cait looked up at him with wide blue eyes. She was engaged with him.

"I always preferred tender, little baby feet myself," he said, bringing one of her left foot up to his lips and pretending to nibble.

The baby continued to look at him, and then, she gave him a toothless smile.

"I bet my whiskers tickle don't they, " he smiled back at her.

Unbeknownst to Raylan, Winona stood in the doorway taking in the beautiful sight. It brought a smile to her face, as well.

After a beat she asked, "What would you do if she actually answered you?"

"Oh, so you're awake?" he was surprised and glanced over in her direction. "We tried to be quiet."

"You didn't wake me up," she reassured him. "It felt good to lie down for a little while."

After a beat, she ran her fingers through her hair and asked, "So, how did it go in Nashville? Did you get the closure you were looking for?"

"Not exactly," he said, looking at her. Only this time, he maintained eye contact.

Winona came around and sat beside him on the other end of the sofa. She grabbed an afghan that was draped over the back of the sofa, drew her legs up, and covered her bare feet.

"Well, are you going to tell me, or do I have to drag it out of you?" she said with a little smile and her arms crossed in front of her, only she wasn't kidding around.

Raylan knew she wasn't kidding. It didn't matter whether or not he wanted to talk about it or not. He owed it to her to let her know what he was thinking and feeling.

"Boyd confessed to murderin' one of the two men Arlo pled guilty to murderin'," he said, pursing his lips. "And he says he can prove it."

"Tom Bergen?" she asked with a sudden and very concerned look on her face.

"No, the other one," he replied.

"Well, what does that mean?" she gently pried.

"What it means is that the federal prison has Boyd's murder confession on tape," he began to explain. "So much for me goin' there to visit him as a private citizen ... I witnessed a recorded confession. I'm gonna be dragged into this, at some point."

"I thought you said Tennessee would lock him up and throw away the key?" she asked, trying to take it all in, the ramifications of what he was telling her.

"Murder trumps federal drug charges," he went on. "That and Boyd doesn't want to do his time in Tennessee. Let's just say he's havin' to keep his back to the wall in there and leave it at that."

Winona flashed him a horrified look, to which he responded by raising his eyebrows and nodding his head.

"Yep," he said.

"Oh, wow," she finally spoke. "I can see why he'd want to get out of there."

"His motivation is clear. It is so bad there that he'd confess to a murder," Raylan expounded.

Then, Winona suddenly saw the bigger picture.

"Art's going to find out you went down there," she finally got to the foregone conclusion for Raylan.

"Yes, he will," Raylan nodded again. "And he won't be one bit too happy with me."

Then, after a beat, he uttered a pent up, "Shit."

Catching himself, he looked up at her. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He was inferring he shouldn't have said it in front of the baby. "It's just that I'm so damn pissed off. Truth is stranger than fiction. I mean, I couldn't write this shit."

Then, he gently placed his hands over his daughter's ear, looked at her, and said, "You didn't hear any of that."

Cait continued to look up at him and smiled. Winona let out a little laugh at his predicament. Then, she quickly regained her composure.

"Seriously, I'm sorry you're going to have to deal with Art on this," she sounded sincere. "I feel like it's my fault."

"No," he shook his head, releasing his daughter's ears, "it's not. It was a good idea. That's why I went. I needed to go." Then, he looked up at her. "You know me. I would have eventually found a way to go down there and talk to him, anyway. All you did was to frame it as a good excuse that sounded like me, wantin' to defy Art was ... somehow normal. You gave me a reason to justify it."

Winona shifted her weight so that she was closer to Raylan and Cait.

"Maybe if you would explain it to Art, the way you explained it to me ... about how Boyd saved your life ... twice," she said, placing her hand firmly on his knee. "I didn't really get it until you supplied that little missing piece of the puzzle."

"The puzzle?" he asked, not understanding.

"You are a puzzle," she informed him, "at times. What I mean by that is that sometimes, your motivation isn't clear. But it's only because some information about your motivation hasn't been offered, by you."

"I am gettin' better about that, aren't I?" he looked up and asked her.

"Yes," she smiled. "And I appreciate it so much, Raylan. I know it doesn't come easy to you to share the really personal stuff."

He reached over the back of the soft for her Winona's hand. She reached for his, and he took hers and gave it squeezed.

"Somehow, I don't think Art is gonna be as understandin'," he said. "Boyd was finally out of his hair, and thanks to me, Boyd will be back in his hair ... and my name will be attached to it."

Winona chewed on the side of her mouth, in thought.

"Pre-emptive strike," she suddenly uttered.

"What are you sayin'?" he asked, confused.

"It's best if you tell him first," she offered. "Nobody likes surprises, not the bad kind. It would be better if Art had a heads up from you, rather than for him to be hit upside the head with the news."

"I already know I gotta tell him," Raylan agreed. "I'm the one who's gonna get hit upside the head."

"Now, wait a minute," Winona' mind was racing again.

"I'm listenin'" Raylan had a bit of a lilt to his voice.

She continued. "Boyd is going to do what he has to do to get out of his bad situation whether you were coming to see him or not."

Raylan thought about what she said. "That's true."

"So, in a way, this is a blessing you're able to give Art a heads up," she offered.

Raylan gave a little chuckle.

"I love you for wantin' to spin this piece of shit situation into a good thing for me," he gave her hand another loving squeeze. "But somethin' tells me Art is not gonna see it that way."

He smiled at her, and she gave him a loving smile back.

"Thank you for tryin' ... to make me feel better, for lookin' out for me," he continued to give her hand a tender squeeze.

She gave a little laugh. "You want me to talk to Art? He kinda likes me, you know."

Still smiling, Raylan answered, "He does like you. But Art wouldn't look too kindly on me sendin' my lady in to deliver my bad news. Art is a man's man. It'd be best for me to go on in and face him, like a man."

Still holding onto her hand, he tugged her in his direction. Winona shifted her weight so that she was up on her knees. She leaned over their baby and moved in closer.

"Yeah, that would be best," she said, her eyes locked into his.

Raylan moved his leg over a bit, allowing Winona a little more room as he drew her in for a long, soulful kiss.

Cait was in the middle of her parents, looking up, waving her hands up in the air, in delight.

When Raylan and Winona finally came up for air, they looked down at their little one. She was alert and wide awake.

Thinking on his feet, Raylan asked, "How about I take my girls out for dinner tonight?"

It was more than apparent that Caitlyn was going to be up for a while.

Winona also realized that her stirring passion was going to have to be put on hold.

"That sounds like a good idea," she acquiesced.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After the three returned home from a wonderful Chinese dinner, Caitlyn was soon ready for sleep. And her parents had only one thought on their minds.

In the dim light of their bedroom, they fell into a deep kiss.

Winona finally pried herself away to catch her breath. "Are you ready for that massage I promised you last night?"

Raylan immediately went back to kissing her, while frantically unbuttoning the back of her blouse.

"I don't think a massage is what I need, at the moment," he whispered in between kisses, short of breath himself.

He then pulled her to him, pressing himself up against her.

"Hmmm," she uttered, her eyes widened at his urgency, and she began to help him get out of his jeans.

Clothing went flying through the air, and soon, he was on top of her, a force to be reckoned with.

"I've been thinkin' about you all afternoon," he panted.

His fervent desire for her ignited hers. Once they were one, Raylan deliberately slowed the pace to a tortuously slow rhythm that was almost tantric. He made love to her, and she to him until they released together in one another's arms ... not wanting to move.

Sometime later, Raylan woke to find them still together in the other's arms. Not wanting to wake Winona, he reached over for the hem of their bedspread with one arm and covered them. He then reached for a pillow for his head, as hers was cradled in is other arm. And he immediately went back to sleep.

The next morning, Raylan awoke to find he was alone in bed. In fact, he was alone as Caitlyn was not in her bassinette.

After washing up a little in the bathroom and slipping on a pair of sweatpants, he made his way to the kitchen. There, Winona was seated on a bar stool, nursing Caitlyn.

"There's coffee in the pot and some banana nut bread I bought from the bakery," she said upon seeing him enter the room.

"Thanks," he said, scrubbing the sleep from his face and eyes. "Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out, with a look of shock on her face. "I took a pregnancy test this morning. It's in the bathroom if you need to see it."

He began to motion to the other bathroom and tell her that he was just in there and didn't see anything, when she quickly added, "Not our bathroom. It's in the guest bath."

Feeling as if he was hit by a bolt of lightning, he was silent for a moment, studying her face.

"I don't know how this happened," she began. "I mean I know _how _it happened, and we have been goin' at it, at a rabbit's pace."

"Which I never want to stop, by the way ... the rabbit's pace," he added while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Still in shock, she was not rambling.

"I thought as long as I was breastfeeding, I couldn't get pregnant," she said.

"Well, we kinda defied the statistical norms of central tendency," he pointed out.

"Oh, my God," she blurted out. "The thought of breastfeeding two babies!"

Her reality was seeping in.

Raylan walked over and put a reassuring arm around her.

"This might be a little sooner than we'd planned, but we've got the room here to have another baby, and we talked about not wantin' Cait to be an only child like I was."

Winona looked up at him, in horror.

"Raylan, were you tryin' to get me pregnant again?" she gasped.

Taken aback, he carefully responded. "Well, no. That was not my intent. Although I was _not _tryin' either."

Then, the expression on his face turned. "But neither were you."

"Touché, Cowboy," she admitted. "Are you really okay with havin' another one so soon?"

He thought about it for a beat.

And then, he smiled. "Well, you did once promise me a baseball team of little Raylans."

"Yeah, well that was when I was a whole lot younger and before I actually went through a pregnancy and childbirth," she added. "And breastfeeding." She looked down at her little one.

"And Cait's not going to get enough baby time," she was beginning to go off the deep end and tears formed in her eyes.

It was all too overwhelming.

"Hey," Raylan squeezed her. "Cait's gonna get plenty of attention, from both of us. She'll be fine. And I don't know about the breast feeding, but maybe you could go talk to that lactation lady at the hospital."

After another squeeze, he added, "This is gonna be great. You'll see."

"So, you are happy about this?" she looked up at him.

He smiled and he leaned down to kiss her.

"I love you. I love Cait. And I'm gonna love this little one, too," he assured her. "Yeah, let's be happy about this."

And finally, he got a big smile out of Winona.

_(To be continued ...)_


	14. Chapter 14

Title: The Swear Jar 14/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

A/N Many apologies for the delay. Something very serious happened in real life that put writing on the back burner. It may very well happen again, as it's not in my control. Please stay with me. I know where this fic is going and have every intention of finishing it.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Monday morning came all too soon. Raylan arrived at work, uncharacteristically early. He sat at his desk and had even brought coffee for all from Coffee Times, Art's favorite coffee.

Tim was the next to arrive.

"Oh, bless you," Tim said upon seeing the carrier of Jumbo coffee cups on Raylan's desk. "You don't know how bad I need this, this mornin'."

And he helped himself to the one Raylan pointed out as his.

"Ahhhh," Tim exclaimed as he swallowed his first sip. "Muffins, too?" he asked. "What did you do, rob a bank over the weekend?"

Tim reached in and to take a giant blueberry muffin. Raylan grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"No, that's Art's favorite," Raylan chastised his partner. "You're welcome to take your pick of the other three."

"Ohhhh," Tim nodded. "This is all for Art," he surmised. "You really did do something while you were away, didn't you?" he asked, settling for a pumpkin looking muffin, instead.

"Yeah," Raylan nodded. "Somethin' happened. But Art needs to hear about it first, okay?"

"Whatever you say," Tim but his hand up, indicating he would back off.

A few minutes later, Rachael made her way to her desk.

"Ooooh. Coffee Time," she delightfully noticed. "What's the occasion?"

"Ol' Raylan is gonna try and soften the blow to Art," Tim nodded to his female partner.

Curiously, Rachael cast a glance at Raylan.

"So?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

She couldn't wait to hear this one.

On the other hand, Raylan let out a pensive sigh of exasperation.

"Somethin' happened while I was away, and I need a word with Art," he said, glancing hard back at her. "You two will find out soon enough, but I owe Art the courtesy of bein' the first to know."

"This ought to be good," she smiled, taking the cup that Raylan pointed out to be hers. "Oh, my. Muffins, too? Wow, this must _really_ be bad," she surmised.

It was tough working with fellow Marshals. Nothing was lost on them.

"Yeah," Raylan give a tight smile. "It's one of my better ones."

"Did you shoot someone?" Art bellowed, catching the last of their remarks.

Seeing the Coffee Time goodies on Raylan's desk, Art quickly put two and two together.

"Art? I need a word," Raylan got straight to the point.

"A blueberry muffin?" Art said, spying his favorite pastry. "Oh, hell. This isn't gonna be good is it?" he asked his Deputy Marshal.

"Nope," Raylan said, following his boss into his glass office with coffee and muffins in tow.

Once they were both inside, Raylan closed the door and took a seat in front of his boss's desk. He carefully presented Art's coffee and muffin.

"Is the espresso gonna be strong enough, or do I need to pull out the Bourbon?" Art asked, not at all kidding.

"You might want a shot in your coffee," Raylan wryly nodded, "or two ... or three."

"Well, since you called the meeting, do you want to do the honors?" Art asked.

Raylan stood up and sauntered over to the book case, returning with the bottle that was about 3/4 of the way full. Art removed the lid from his cup, and gave Raylan access to pour a pretty good jolt into the cup. Raylan then did the same to his own cup and placed the bottle on the desk, still in reach.

They each took a good sip. The bourbon and hot java burned on the way down.

"Boyd Crowder," Raylan uttered the name.

Art looked up.

"What about him?" Art was afraid to ask.

"I saw him," Raylan began. "On Friday ... in Nashville."

Now, Art looked up at him, in disbelief.

"You went to the prison?" he asked, his voice becoming huffy.

"I needed to find out how Arlo escaped," Raylan calmly explained, using his hands.

"And did you?" Art asked. "Find out how he escaped?"

"No," he sighed, "but I found out some things I really don't want to know."

Now, Art was glaring at Raylan, afraid to ask what was next. Raylan leaned forward in his chair with his elbows propped up on his thighs.

"Boyd's in a bad spot in prison," he was fully taking with his hands.

"You think?" Art was not being sarcastic.

"He's havin' to keep his back against the wall ... if you know what I mean," Raylan raised his eyebrows. "And bein' as crafty as we both know he can be, he's decided he'd rather do his time in his home state of Kentucky."

"That's not up to him," Art insisted.

"It is if he confesses to a murder," Raylan tilted his head. "He's confessin' to the murder of one Derek Lennox."

"Devil?" Art said as he stood. "Your Daddy took the fall for that."

"I know," Raylan said. "I was as surprised as you are. Well, not really, that he did it ... but that he'd cop to it ... now."

Art began to pace behind his desk, his hands on his hips.

"Can he prove it?" Art asked.

"I told him he'd have to tell his lawyer where the murder weapon is," he recanted, as best he could, "as I could not be involved. But then, he reminded me our visit was bein' taped."

"Well, hell, Raylan," Art bellowed. "Why don't you just open up the Tennessee prison gates and welcome him here, back in Kentucky, with open arms?"

Art's pacing picked up in speed, and now, he was rubbing his bald head in utter frustration.

"Why in the hell did you have to go down there and ruin my life?" Art ranted. "I had just gotten rid of that wily son-of-a-bitch. He was out of my hair ... forever. But no. You had to go down there and stir the pot."

"You could look at it that way," Raylan carefully chose his words, "or you could realize that Boyd was gonna do this anyways, and all I did was find out what he was up to. And I came directly to you to give you a heads up?"

Art glared at his charge.

"For someone who claims to not give a damn about his Daddy, you obviously do give a damn," Art sputtered. "And you obviously don't give a damn about me."

"That's not true!" Raylan defiantly sprung to his feet.

"Which one?" Art bellowed back.

"Neither of 'em," Raylan insisted, glaring bullets back at his boss.

Art let out a huge sigh of frustration.

"Did Boyd mention the murder of Tom Bergen?" Art asked.

At least if this was going to go down this way, Art figured they owed Tom's family the right murderer.

Raylan put his hand up to his mouth and firmly stroked his jaw.

"No," he answered. "Boyd still maintains he was unconscious and didn't see who did it."

After a moment of silence, Art reached behind his desk and turned around with two empty glasses. He took a seat in his chair and motioned for Raylan to take his, as well. He proceeded to pour three fingers worth of Bourbon in each glass, and he handed one to Raylan. With a nod of the head, they each downed their poison.

After a time of silence with each man inside their own head, Art looked up and asked, "Why do you care about a piece of shit like Boyd Crowder? You basically drew him a map as to how to get out of the State of Tennessee."

Raylan thought about what Winona had said and decided he had nothing to lose by telling Art the truth. He told Art the whole story, including how Boyd had saved his life not once, but twice.

"And now, the prison has you on tape, listenin' to Crowder's confession, and you givin' him legal advice _'off the record,"_ Art added, using his fingers to emphasize the quote. "You re clearly professionally conflicted when it comes to Boyd Crowder," Art concluded. "You've made some bad calls where he is concerned, and this is definitely the worst of them. I have no choice but to write you up for disciplinary action."

Raylan looked at him, in shock.

"Art? What are you sayin' here?" Raylan asked.

"Your conduct in goin' down on your own time, visitin' with a known criminal and gettin' yourself and the State of Kentucky into this mess is unbecomin' to the Marshal Service," he grimly stated. "I don't know what the discipline will be because it's not my call. It could be anything from a slap on the wrist, which I doubt they'd give you because you're such a known quantity ... up to termination from the Service."

"But Art, I had no way of knowin' what Boyd would do or say," Raylan defended himself. "He was gonna do whatever he had to do to eradicate himself from his threatenin' situation regardless of whether I was there or not."

"It doesn't matter," Art maintained. "It is my duty to report this, and I cannot keep your name out of it."

"Well, shit!" Raylan exclaimed. "Did you know I just found out Winona is pregnant this mornin'? Again?"

After a silent beat, Art poured them each another couple of fingers of the Bourbon.

"Well, congratulations," Art said, raising his glass. "Too bad your babies' Daddy is an idiot with misplaced loyalties, when it comes to Crowder."

"Is that what you're gonna say in your report?" Raylan asked in astonishment, taking the newly filled glass from his boss.

Swallowing his drink, Art said, "No. But I want you to think about what I said ... because that's what the Service is gonna conclude. And you need to have an answer to it."

Raylan Givens sat there, thinking, _'How could he explain something to the Service that he didn't understand himself?'_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Later that afternoon, Tim and Rachael returned to the office from a prison transport Art had sent them out to perform. They could tell by Raylan's stiff and silent demeanor that he was in no mood to talk and decided it would be no fun to push it.

Earlier that morning, the two Deputy Marshals couldn't help but take an occasional peek into their boss's fishbowl of an office. They could tell from the body language of both Art and Raylan that the conversation wasn't going well. And when they saw Art finally pull out the glasses for a stiff drink at 9 a.m.? Well, they didn't even dare to imagine how bad it was.

The three finished up the day doing their respective paperwork in silence and left in the following sequence: Rachael first, followed a little while later by Tim, and then, Raylan. Raylan did not even wave goodbye to Art, through the glass window, as he always did ... nor did he acknowledge him in the least. It was all Raylan could do but to silently slip out the door.

Once down in the parking lot, in his car, he couldn't bring himself to go straight home either. He was too keyed up to face Winona with the latest development. Honestly, he decided he didn't want to burden her with what he didn't know. He decided, instead, to first stop by _'his bar.'_

"Long time, no see," Lindsey acknowledged him from behind the bar. "Where have you been, Stranger? Roy said you still lived here, but I was beginnin' to doubt him."

Taking a seat on the stool in front of her, he answered, "Oh, I've been busy gettin' engaged and makin' another baby. And doin' somethin' really stupid on my job that I may now lose."

It was Lindsey's job not to react to what she heard. It was one of the things Raylan liked best about her.

Knowing how important his job was to him, she asked, "How about drink?"

"Make it a double," he nodded, "or maybe even a triple."

"Are you drivin' tonight?" she asked, in a dutiful, bartender tone.

Raylan shook his head.

"I kind of don't think so," he answered.

She left and returned with his drink in a glass. She then placed the bottle on the bar next to him, within his reach.

"Help yourself to more, if you like," she suggested, "and tell me all about it."

He proceeded to slowly sip on his Bourbon and tell her all about his reconciliation with Winona, Caitlyn, and their new house. He told her about how happy they were, their engagement ... how he found out that morning they were going to have another baby. And then, he told her how he had just screwed up everything by going to visit Boyd in Nashville.

After finishing his double, twice, he refilled his glass again ... only this time, Lindsey joined him. The bar was slow that night, and between the two of them, over the course of an evening, they ended up finishing the bottle.

The next morning, Raylan woke up with a bad case of cotton mouth and a pounding headache. He focused on the morning light shining through the bullet hole in his floor, and found himself lying in bed in his room upstairs from the bar. And lying beside him in bed, sound asleep, was Lindsey.

"Oh, shit," he exclaimed under his breath. "What the hell have I done, now?"

_(To be continued ...)_


	15. Chapter 15

Title: The Swear Jar 15/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (although no worse than the show).

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Slowly and carefully sitting up in the bed so as not to wake Lindsey, Raylan glanced at his watch. 7:12 a.m. He found himself clad in his jeans, his open shirt, and socked feet. He grabbed his cell phone from the night stand and rapidly flipped through the screen. Three missed calls from Winona.

His head sloshed against his skull as slowly stood up and shuffled to the bathroom. After his night of boozing, he had to piss like a wild race horse. After he relieved himself, he filled up a glass of water at the sink and downed it in three gulps. He refilled the glass and while drinking it down, he opened his medicine cabinet and found his bottle of aspirin. He poured 4 tablets out of the bottle and swallowed them on his empty stomach with a third glass of water.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and noted that he looked to be an ashen shade of grey. He leaned down to brush it teeth in an effort to get the sensation of old Bourbon-flavored cotton out of his mouth, and then, splashed cool water on his face to wake up. Then, he slowly walked out of the bathroom, walked out of his room, and headed downstairs to find some privacy.

He called Winona.

"Look, before you say anything, please, let me tell you what's been goin' on since I last saw you," he pleaded; worried she might hang up on him.

"Okay, but first, are you okay?" she insisted on knowing.

"Other than havin' the worst hangover in history, no, I'm not okay," he answered her. "I talked to Art like we discussed. It did not go well."

"Well, okay," she said. "What does that mean?"

"It means he said I have demonstrated conduct unbecomin' of a marshal, and it could mean my job," he answered her again. "He says I used bad judgment by goin' and seein' a convicted prisoner on my off duty time."

"Well, did you tell him why you feel so responsible for Boyd?" she asked, her voice becoming a little shrill.

"I did. And while I think he understands, as a supervisin' marshal, he's bound by duty to report the incident," he explained. "I had to stay there the rest of the day, chained to my desk with Art in the office. I've never felt so uncomfortable, so caged in my life. By the time it was time to go home, I was so keyed up ... I just couldn't tell you what happened, not after the wonderful news you told me about the baby. So, I stopped for a drink and I'm ashamed to say, I drank and drank until I passed out."

He continued to ramble. "I just woke up in a start and saw it was mornin', and I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I'm just so sorry."

After a long beat of silence, Winona said, "I guess the most important thing is that you're okay. And I'm sorry things didn't go well with Art. Once again, I think I'm making things worse for you. It was my suggestion you visit Boyd, and it was my suggestion you tell Art what happened in Nashville before he finds out from someone else. I'm sorry, Raylan."

"It's not your fault," he assured her. "I'll just have to wait and see what the Service has in mind as discipline."

"Are you going straight into work?" she asked.

"No, I can't go in lookin' like this," he said. "I'll call in and then, come home and clean up first," he decided. "I'll see you in a bit, alright?"

"Alright," she said. "And thank you for telling me the truth."

"I can't tell you how much money I owe Caitlyn's Swear Jar," he quipped. "I think I broke a record, yesterday and last night."

"I was cussing up a storm last night myself. I owe the jar, too," she admitted. "We'll settle up with it tonight, okay?"

"Okay. I'll see you soon," he said and cut the call.

Had he told her the truth? He was about to find out.

Raylan slowly pulled his body that was attached to his throbbing head, back up the stairs to his room. He opened the door to find the bed was empty. Then, he heard that Lindsey was in the bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later, looking as rough as he did.

"I took some of your aspirin," she informed him. "How are you doin'?"

"I just got off the phone with Winona," he said, running his fingers through his wild mop of hair. "What the hell happened last night?"

She sat herself down on the corner of the bed, looking as sexy as she ever did.

"You had too much to drink last night, as did I," she said. "I helped you up here to your bed and you were out as soon as your head hit the pillow. I pulled off your boots. And then, I proceeded to pass out right beside you. There was no way I was gonna make it back downstairs under my own steam."

"So, we didn't ... ?," he asked, motioning with his index back and forth between them.

"Oh, I sure wanted to," she admitted. "You are one stud of a lover, Raylan. You sure know how to light my fire, every time, but to answer your question … no. You couldn't have gotten it up last night if your life had depended on it. And besides, as much as I _love _havin' fun with you ... I'm no home wrecker."

He smiled at her.

"That's what I love best about you," he said.

"How about I go and fix us some eggs and a little hair of the dog?" she asked. "It's a sure fire cure for a hangover."

"Really?" he asked. "Yes, please."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

When Raylan was on his way home, he called Winona and gave her a more accurate time of arrival. Lindsey had whipped them up each an _Eggs Benedict_ with a chaser of Gatorade that followed a shot of vodka. She swore with all the protein, fat, salt, and electrolytes, this was _'the cure.'_ He had to admit between Lindsey's cures, the aspirin, and all the water he drank ... he was feeling almost normal.

When he arrived home, Winona was in the living room nursing Cait. He quickly said 'hey' and went in to take a shower. After his shower and shave, he exited the bathroom, followed by a puff of steam. Wrapped in a towel, he found Winona waiting for him.

"I just put her down," she said, referring to Caitlyn.

He walked towards her.

"What time do you need to get back to the office?" she asked.

"I've got some time," he said. "Do you want to talk?"

She gazed into his eyes and brought her self closer to him. She went up on her tip toes and kissed him. Then, she kissed him again with tongue and passion and rubbed up against him until his towel dropped, exposing his desire.

"I seem to be feeling much better," he noticed, and he took her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

He seductively undressed her, nibbling each newly exposed part of her body along the way. Once she was completely nude, she begged him to enter her. He did as she said but teased her, entering her very slowly and then, devouring each of breast. He loved that her breasts made more womanly since she first became pregnant. The thought that she would have them at least through at least another pregnancy excited him even more. Winona let out soft moans of pleasure pain until she rolled over, on top of him, taking control. She picked up the pace a bit to match her spasming waves of pleasure. She skillfully rode the length of him while he moved against her, matching her stroke for stroke. When he could feel her approaching ecstasy, she rolled over, back on top of her. The weight of him was made especially for her, and she threw her head back, as he slowly took her over the top and followed her in an intense, explosive climax.

She placed her hand behind his neck and brought his head down to her for a kiss. She loved him. He loved her. And he would never put his love for her in jeopardy, ever again.

Lying there, in the afterglow, he stared up at the ceiling.

"A penny for your thoughts," she said.

"I think I may have a way out of this mess," he said. "It will cost me some of my pride, but it might just get the job done."

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I tell you what," he said as he reached down, grabbed her hand, and brought it up to his lips and kissed it. "Let me run it by Art first and if he bites, I'll let you know, okay?"

"Okay," she said, squeezing his hand.

All she wanted for was everything to go back to where they were before she made the seemingly stupid suggestion for Raylan to visit Boyd in Nashville.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was lunch time before Raylan arrived at the office. Neither Tim nor Rachael had returned from their lunch, but Art was there, and he waved for Raylan to come back to his office.

"Well, how's the hangover, Raylan?" Art asked with his typical lilt in his voice.

"Better than I thought it would be," he confessed.

Art sat down on the corner of his desk, as Raylan stood propped up in his open doorway.

"And did you have time to think about your latest predicament," Art asked, "in between your shots of Bourbon?"

"I have an offer I want to run by you," he answered. "You asked me why I feel I owe somethin' to Boyd. I explained to you that the man saved my life on two occasions, and I guess you feel that's not worth me givin' a shit about him anymore. I've given this a lot of thought, and I can honestly tell you that I don't know why I still feel obligated to Boyd after everything he's done as a criminal. I mean, I can get really angry with Boyd. I want to be done with him ... but I can't do it, at least not yet."

Art was listening but was becoming impatient.

"And you said you have an offer?" he tried to speed things along.

"I'm gettin' to it," Raylan pointed with his finger. "I can't tell you why I do what I do ... because I honestly don't know. You know me, Art. I'm not lyin' about this. I honestly cannot tell you. So, I was thinkin', what if I was to offer to see the Department shrink? Maybe she can help me figure out why I can't let go of this feeling of obligation I have when it comes to Boyd?"

"Yeah, and maybe she could figure out why you're so trigger happy, too," Art smiled.

"Don't push it," Raylan said. "I'm in trouble because of Boyd ... not because I shot someone."

"This time," Art added, "but I see your point."

Art shifted his position, crossed his arms in front of him, and said, "Tell you what ... I'll make the proposal and see what they say. I know you don't want to talk to the shrink, Raylan. I can't tell you what is gonna happen, but I must say ... I'm impressed by your offer."

"Thanks," Raylan replied. "Let's just see what they say. And can we keep this between us, please? I wouldn't want Tim or Rachael to know about this."

Art laughed. "Yeah, those two would never let you live it down. They already both think you're nuts!"

"That's not funny," Raylan protested.

"Alright, Raylan," Art said with a smile, enjoying his fun at his marshal's expense. "We'll keep this between the two of us."

"I appreciate it," Raylan nodded.

After a beat, Art added in an authoritative tone, "And one more thing. You are _no_t to have any contact with Boyd Crowder ... in any way, shape or form, in any capacity be it personal or professional. We're gonna add that to your _'offer.' _And while we're at it ... let's extend that _'no contact list'_ to include Ava Crowder, Johnny Crowder, and any other _'Crowder'_ I don't know about! Capiche?"

In no position to argue, Raylan could no nothing but say, "Capiche."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Later that night at home, after they had given Caitlyn a bath and put her to bed, Raylan recapped his entire conversation to Winona over take-out Chinese.

"Wow, that's major thing for you to do," she said, knowing there were parts of him she assumed would forever remain private.

"Maybe it's time I get my head shrunk and find out more about my childhood," he lamented. "I'm a father now. I don't want to be carryin' around crap I don't even know about or remember, you know? I dunno. Maybe I'll learn somethin' about myself."

Winona couldn't help but feel two ways about what he was proposing to do. On the one hand, she'd always known there were some tender spots in Raylan's past. He was very self-protective about them and whenever she got too close to them, his reactions weren't nice. Over the years, she'd learned where to tread lightly.

On the other hand, she felt that if he were free from some of his demons, he might be a happier person. He might even be able to fall asleep at night ... without having a few drinks or sex. Not that she minded the sex. In fact, they were pretty evenly matched in that department. However, she knew he had wrestled with bouts of insomnia for as long as she had known him.

She reached over and placed her hand on top of his.

"It's up to you, Cowboy," she said, "how far or how deep you want to go. I know you love your job, but your psyche is your own. It doesn't belong to the Service or to me. It belongs to you. Just remember that."

He turned his hand over and gave hers a loving squeeze.

"Thank you for that," he gave her a weak smile. "You have no idea how good you are for me."

Winona got up from her chair and approached him. He shifted his weight in his chair so that he was facing her, and she proceeded to take a seat in his lap. She gazed intensely into his eyes and traced her fingertips along the chiseled line of his jaw.

"You're good for me, too, Raylan," she purred, as she leaned in for a kiss.

He tasted of Kung Poa and she of plum sauce, and their tongues melded the flavors together in a slow, sultry kiss. Raylan's arms brought her in closer, so that he could slowly unbutton the back of her blouse. Winona then adjusted her weight so that she straddled him. Fully clothed, her body began to slowly writhe against him.

"You are soooo good," he growled in his throat.

As their breathing became heavy, Raylan lifted her skirt to her hips, giving her more freedom to move. She began to grind her hips against his, as he reached up under her blouse and released her from her bra. He then cupped her breasts in his hands, moaning as she continued her grinding movements.

All of a sudden, their sexy interlude was interrupted by his cell phone.

"Shit!" he exclaimed and automatically pulled the phone out of his pocket.

It was the habit of a marshal to always go for the phone. It was something he could not control. Winona knew it and accepted it, but that didn't mean it didn't sometimes frustrate the hell out of both of them.

Raylan quickly glanced at the screen and hit a button.

"Who is it?" Winona breathlessly asked, tossing her head so that her hair fell to the other side.

It was a call from Ava Crowder, and Raylan had hit the button causing the call to go to his voice mail.

_"Get my cell phone number changed,"_ he noted to himself.

He then placed the phone on the dining table, near his beer and his fortune cookie.

"Now, where were we?" he asked in a breathy voice and leaned forward for another sultry kiss.

Their kiss turned into one of the sexiest make-out sessions either of them had ever experienced. Winona continued her lap dance until they could stand it no more. She made love to him that night in the chair and afterwards, they moved to the bedroom where Raylan slept like a baby.

_(To be continued ...)_


	16. Chapter 16

Title: The Swear Jar 16/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The following morning, Raylan sauntered into work, shuffling towards his office in a fairly good mood that is, until he ran into Art, who at first glance, was not.

"You're issued a cell phone so you'll answer it," Art bellowed. He had been lying in wait to catch Raylan at the elevator, just outside the Marshal Service offices. "You were too hung over, yesterday, to make it in on time. You're late again, today, **and** you're not answering your phone!"

"Art," Raylan said, defensively holding out his hand, "I am technically late, **and** I have an explanation. I just came from the 4th floor where I had to have a new cell phone number issued. You see, Ava Crowder called me on my cell last night. You told me not to have any contact with her, so I didn't answer her call. The only way I know not to have contact with her is to make it to where she doesn't know how to reach me. Here's my new number," he said, handing his Chief a piece of paper with digits scrawled across it.

Looking at the paper, Art deflected. "What did Ava want?"

Raylan shook his head with a smirk on his face. "How would I know? You told me not to have contact with her," he followed with a frustrated _'tisk.'_ "Her call went to voice mail, which I no longer have access to anymore, by the way, because I was showin' initiative by gettin' myself a new phone number."

"Well, that makes sense," Art said, stuffing the piece of paper with the phone number into his pants pocket. "I guess I'll have to talk to her myself to find out what she wants," he added, sounding put upon.

"I tried to set her up with Tim as a contact for the Marshal Service," Raylan volunteered. "I've been distancin' myself from her ... you know, since Winona and I are engaged. Ava's flirty ways aren't a good thing to have around my _Wife-to-be Take 2_, you know what I mean? On the other hand, Tim's single. He can handle it."

"Alright, Raylan," Art nodded. "I'll send Tim and Rachael out to Harlan to talk to her and give them a heads up to keep you out of it. I won't say anything more than they need to know."

"Thanks," Raylan said with a skeptical look on his face, knowing that Rachael and Tim were smart enough to figure things out on their own. They were marshals, and this is what they did for a living … figure things out.

Resigned, Raylan changed the subject. "Hey, Art? Are you and I okay? 'cause it seems like everything I do of late rubs you the wrong way. I can assure you, I'm not doin' anything to make you mad on purpose."

The elder Chief let out a sigh and pulled his hands out of his pockets and placed them authoritatively on his hips.

"Raylan, since you were shot, you have been a lot better about followin' orders, callin' for back up, and that's been good," Art swayed back and forth, his hands placed squarely on his hips. "But when it comes to the Crowders, you'll have to excuse my knee-jerk reaction. You've screwed me over, one time too many, when it comes to them."

Raylan screwed up his face. "That's exactly what Winona says."

"Smart woman," Art nodded. "I always liked Winona."

"It worries me when you two are in agreement," Raylan smirked. "Sometimes, it feels like you and she are gangin' up on me."

"It's good for you, Raylan," Art retorted, clearly amused.

As Raylan tried to walk toward the glassed entrance to their offices, Art reached out his hand and placed it firmly on Raylan's shoulder.

"Hey," Art's tone quickly changed. "I need to talk to you about somethin' else before we go in."

"Uh-oh," Raylan stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes. "These conversations that start like this never end well."

"I spoke to AUSA Vasquez about our conversation about Boyd," Art began. "With all your history and baggage with the Crowders, he agreed that this doesn't put you in the best light when it comes to your little visit with Boyd in Nashville. He suggested that you fall on your sword and offer yourself up for counselin' through the Department … you know, beat a reprimand."

Raylan pushed the brim of his hat off his face and began rubbing his eyes. "I already agreed to that. In fact, it was _my idea_," he sounded annoyed.

"You know how this game is played," Art smirked. "You have to let these AUSA types think it was _their_ idea. And Vasquez does think it's his idea. So, he's recommendin' 6 weeks of counselin' for you, effective immediately. And I have accepted his recommendation. That is what I'm gonna put in my report. It's a pre-emptive strike."

Raylan looked up at his boss, a little more than uncomfortable, now that this was actually happening.

Art shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You have an appointment with Carolyn Fried at 2:00 this afternoon."

"Well, hell, Art," Raylan let out a sigh of frustration. "You didn't waste any time, now, did ya'?"

Art looked up at his charge. "Timing was of the essence on this one. You know that. Anyway, it's done."

Then, Art put a fatherly arm around Raylan's shoulder and led him into their offices. "And besides, the important thing is that you still have your job … especially with baby number two on the way."

Raylan nodded. "I appreciate that," he said and then, rolled his eyes.

As Raylan made his way to his desk, Art walked past and bellowed, "Rachel, Tim, I need to see you."

Tim and Rachel looked at one another and then at Raylan, who obviously avoided eye contact with them. It was only when Tim and Rachel were well inside Art's office did Raylan look up from his desk. He then made a quick call to Winona.

"Hey," he said after the call was connected. "I was issued a new cell phone number, and I wanted to make sure you have it."

"Why did you have to get a new number?" she asked, with concern in her voice.

It's not that she didn't trust the Marshal Service, but she didn't trust the Marshal Service.

"The Service requires we change it from time to time," he said, thinking that his impromptu explanation sounded good.

"Alright, I'll save this number in my phone," she said, entering in the changes in the phone as she spoke.

She hoped he was telling her the truth.

Then, Raylan quickly changed the subject. "If things go well, I may be able to get out of here a little early, this afternoon. Could I take you and Cait out for an early dinner tonight?"

"Sure," Winona said with a little smile. "Could we go for Mexican food? I have a craving for some enchiladas."

Raylan smiled. "Mexican it is. I'll call you later to confirm the time, but I'm hopin' to be home by 4:30."

"Okay, we'll be ready," Winona answered. "Love you."

"Love you, too," he said back to her.

As he disconnected the call, Raylan took note of how good he felt to hear and say the word 'love,' again, to have love once again in his life.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Driving out to the Harlan bar owned by Boyd Crowder's cousin, Johnny; Rachel, who was in the driver's seat, looked over at Tim.

"You don't seem to be very happy about coming out here," she noted. "You usually relish any opportunity to get out of the office."

Tim did not look up from texting on his phone.

"It's pretty obvious Raylan didn't want this task," he sighed, as he continued with his text. "Don't you ever get tired of doin' his bidding?"

"Art asked us to go, and he wouldn't have asked if he didn't have a good reason," she remarked. "You know he always gives Harlan runs to Raylan."

"Well, aren't you curious to know why he didn't, this time?" Tim asked, still texting.

"Who are you texting so furiously over there?" she asked, changing the subject.

"A girl I met last week," he volunteered. "We've gone out a few times."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Really? Is she anything special?"

Finished with his text, he finally looked up at her. "I haven't scared her away, yet."

After a beat, he continued, "Well, aren't you? Curious as to why Raylan wasn't asked to go?" he redirected his partner back to his question.

"Sure I am," she answered. "I suspect it has something to do with the fact that the widow Crowder is always flirting with Raylan, and Winona isn't down with that. She must have been calling him on his cell. That's why he got a new phone number … to keep her from calling him now that he and Winona are going to be remarried."

"Yeah, well, maybe," Tim acquiesced. "Raylan was trying really hard to get Ava to start calling me instead him, the last time we saw her."

"Maybe if you could be a little nicer to her, she would," Rachel suggested. "Now, let's find out what she wants."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

About an hour later, the marshals pulled up to the parking lot and entered the bar to find Ava playing bartender.

"Hey, you're Raylan's friends," she smiled upon spying the two. She knew she didn't have any business to do with either one of them. "What can I do for you?"

Concerned about the tone in which Tim would start this conversation, Rachel decided to jump in first.

"We understand you've been trying to reach Raylan," she began. "Just wanted to stop by and see if there's anything we can do."

"Why?" Ava said, stopping what she was doing, with concern in her eyes. "Is Raylan alright?"

Rachel and Tim glanced at each other, to acknowledge that this woman still cared far too much for their fellow marshal.

"He's fine," Rachel said, the words finally coming to her. "He's just _indisposed_."

"Indisposed?" Ava responded, her tone notably changed.

It was apparent they were not willing to give out any information to her, but that didn't stop Ava.

"Indisposed, how?" she pushed a little more. Her determination was clear.

After a beat, Deputy Marshal Gutterson shoved his hands, still near his firearm. "Raylan's engaged with another child on the way," he fired. His steely stare never left her face, as he waited for a reaction.

Trying desperately not to show how she was feeling, Ava colored that reaction. "I see," she ruffled, standing proudly.

The truth was, there was no news about Boyd. Ava only left a message about Boyd as a way to get Raylan to come and talk to her, a plan she thought would surely work. Little did she know that Raylan never received her voice mail.

Boyd was going to be in prison for a long, long time. After much consideration, Ava decided she wasn't very good 'waiting material' and, erroneously believing that Raylan's baby momma, Winona, was out of the picture, she saw this was her opportunity to turn on her womanly charms and win back the marshal. She would gravel and cry and tell him how sorry was and wrong she had been. She had played out the scene in her mind hundreds of times since Boyd's arrest. She made the decision that she wanted to leave the bar and Boyd's lecherous cousin, Johnny, far, far behind. But news of this latest development put a wrinkle in her plans.

"While I appreciate you two comin' all the way out here to see me," her tone shifting back to 'sweet Ava,' "the reason for my call is for Raylan and Raylan alone."

Then, Tim decided to refresh Ava's memory. "Raylan introduced us when we came to pick up his father, and he told you that you can talk to me."

"I know," Ava nodded. "I remember. But the problem is, this doesn't concern you, in the least, Marshal …"

She scanned her memory for his name.

"It's Tim," Tim jumped right in, "Tim Gutterson."

"Well, then, it doesn't concern you, Deputy Marshal Tim Gutterson," she smiled through her clenched jaw.

"Oh, but it does," Rachel interjected. "If it concerns Boyd Crowder, it concerns the Marshal Service."

Picking up the cleaning rag from the bar, Ava replied, "Who said my call had anything to do with Boyd?"

"Raylan said you wanted to see him about Boyd," Rachel lobbed the ball back into Ava's court.

Truth be told, this is what Rachael had surmised.

Ava shook her head. "No, that's not exactly why I wanted to see him."

"Pray tell, then, why did you call him?" asked the woman marshal.

Ava pursed her lips. "That's not really any of your business."

Rachel interjected, "Again, if it concerns Boyd Crowder, it concerns the Marshal Service."

Ava insisted, "But I already told you … It doesn't have anything to do with Boyd."

Rachael's eyes narrowed. "Then, why don't I believe you?"

Defiant, Ava but her hands on her hips. "Believe me or not. That's of no concern to me. Now, if you will excuse me?"

The look on Ava's face told the marshals it was time for them to leave. But before they did, Tim pulled out one of his cards and placed in on the bar in front of Ava.

"If you need anything, call me. Winona wouldn't take too kindly to old girlfriends calling her fiancé," Tim stated, raising an eyebrow.

Both embarrassed and pissed off at what the younger marshal had said, Ava would not give Tim the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, she slowly tore up his card in his presence, while giving him a cold stare as she went on with cleaning the bar.

_(To be continued ...)_


	17. Chapter 17

Title: The Swear Jar 17/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was 2:07 in the afternoon, and Raylan found himself seated on a sofa in a dingy 7th floor office of the Court House with no windows. He could tell it was a cost-cutting U.S. government office because the room now pulled double duty as furniture storage. One side of the room had metal desks stacked floor to ceiling.

Seated directly across from him was Carolyn Freid, PsyD, the shrink assigned to sometimes work at the Lexington office of the U.S. Marshal Service. Raylan had been required to see her a few times before, always following a shooting, where he was debriefed and evaluated … standard procedure before a marshal is cleared to return to duty and have his or her firearm re-issued.

While he watched the second hand of the clock on the wall slowly _'tic-tic-tic'_ across its black and white face, the plump, middle-aged therapist peered over to top of her stylish bi-focals and down into a folder of paperwork, as she combed through Raylan's file. Clearly by the rapid pace of the flipping pages, as she speed-read through the words in front of her, Dr. Freid was unprepared for this impromptu meeting and having to play a quick game of 'catch-up.' She appeared to be more off balance over this appointment than Raylan, and that suited him just fine.

Finally, after several more minutes, she looked up.

"So, Deputy Marshall Givens," she began, "we meet again."

"Yeah," Raylan responded, in resignation. His hat was still on his head and his hands were folded in his lap, almost as if he'd been called into the principal's office when he was a boy in school.

"However, this time, it looks like the purpose of this meeting more serious than the last time we met," she prompted.

"How's that?" Raylan asked with a quizzical expression on his face. "I didn't shoot anyone, this time."

"No, you didn't," she agreed.

She finally placed the thick file on the coffee table in front of her, giving Raylan her undivided attention.

"And this time, it was _my idea_ to come in and speak with you," he set her straight.

"Really?" she raised a skeptical eyebrow. "According to your file, we are here today based upon the recommendation of AUSA Vasquez and your boss, Chief Deputy Marshall Mullens … as a requirement to maintain your employment with the Marshal Service."

Raylan used a pointed index finger to explain. "But it was _my idea, first_," he insisted. "Vasquez just needed _to think_ this was his idea."

"So, whose idea this was is more important than the reason why you're here?" she questioned him in disbelief.

Suddenly, Raylan was reminded why he harbored a dislike for this woman. She twisted his words. She most memorably did this to him when she debriefed him for the shooting of one Layla Leann Jones, the pretty yet twisted transplant nurse who had crossed his law enforcement path. At the time, Dr. Freid tried to suggest that shooting this young woman was akin to killing the memory of his own mother. Raylan quickly corrected the good doctor by stating he shot Ms. Jones with her finger on the trigger, before she pulled it to blow his drug-induced ass away. The fact that he didn't sleep all that well, afterwards that night, had more to do with Winona leaving him than it did about shooting his first woman.

Then, he recalled that even Rachael had remarked to him that she didn't care for this woman therapist. They each lamented that she fucked with their heads.

Back in the present moment, Raylan once again tried to reign Dr. Freid in. "Look, all I'm tryin' to say is that I agreed to be here. I'm here to cooperate. I don't want to be in therapy forever and would like to roll up my sleeves and get to work, so that I can get back to my job and be an effective law enforcement officer."

"Good," she said. "That's my goal, too. Perhaps you could start by telling me exactly what you wish to accomplish in these sessions."

"Well, if I'm to get straight to the point," Raylan began, removing his hat from his head and placing it on the sofa beside him, "I'd like to no longer be perceived as bein' beholdin' to Boyd Crowder, a known criminal. You see, in between tryin' to kill me, Boyd has saved my life on more than one occasion. I've known him since we were teens digging coal together in the mines."

The good doctor was surprised by Raylan's uncharacteristic cooperation in meeting the Service's goals.

"Are you saying that you feel you owe this man something?" she asked, scribbling notes to her pad. "Or are you saying the perception is wrong?"

"Well, yeah," Raylan stated the obvious. '"I owe him my life, several times over. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't haul his ass to jail. So, I'd say it's both."

Dr. Freid leaned over to pick up Raylan's file again, and quickly rifled through it, finally finding what she'd read only a few moments before.

"You shot him, too," she said, still reading, in an even tone, "almost mortally so."

Raylan gave a tight smile. "Yeah. And then there's that."

"Art Mullens wrote in his report at the time that you were trained by the Service to shoot a suspect square in the chest," she continued to read from the file, placing her hand against her chest for emphasis. "Even more so, you're a certified firearms instructor and _know_ to always shoot a threatening, armed suspect square in the chest. And in Mullens' words, not mine, _"And yet, he missed."_

Looking up from the file, she added. "You're a crack shot, Marshal. You don't miss."

Well versed in Raylan's _'on the job kills,'_ she added a well-placed, "Even I know that."

"Yeah," Raylan acquiesced and then, looked down into his hands that were placed on his lap. "At the time, I didn't mean to _not shoot _to kill."

"Are you saying that you were not aware you missed?" she asked. "At the time?" she added.

"It does seem that way to me now, in hindsight," Raylan admitted.

Looking up at him and placing her pen on top of her pad, she asked, "How do you explain that?"

He then went on. "I suppose Boyd also owes me for his life, too. Although for about a year, he credited my miss to God's will. Then, after he sobered up from his religious bender, it's like we've had an understandin', a kind of a truce or a stalemate on killin' one another. We both know what the other is capable of doin'. It's been an unspoken agreement between us that we won't."

"Does that ever make you feel compromised on your job?" Dr. Freid cut straight to the chase.

"It never did before," he sighed, "not until I saw him down in Nashville. It's all there, in the file," he motioned with his hand. "I didn't feel so much compromised as I felt used. Don't get me wrong, Boyd's not been above tryin' to use me before, but never so blatantly when it comes to my career."

"Can you see how your superiors, your co-workers might think you are compromised when it comes to this man?" Dr. Freid asked, returning to scribbling on her pad.

"I can," Raylan responded, raising an eyebrow. "That's why I'm here. I want to get this all straightened out_." _Then, under his breath, he muttered, _"Especially, now that it looks like he'll be returned to Kentucky."_

That statement was not lost on Dr. Freid.

"Do you think Boyd thinks it pays to know someone in law enforcement?" she asked, scribbling notes.

"I don't think Boyd looks at it that way, at least not entirely," Raylan tried to explain his relationship with Boyd that really made no sense to himself at times. "I think he looks at it like we go way back. He sees us as almost like family. And he thinks nothin' of askin' me for help or for a favor."

"And you don't think anything of granting him help or favor?" she asked.

"I try really hard _not_ to grant him favor," Raylan said. "In fact, I'd walk a mile not to grant him favor. Unless it's a win-win for him and for the Marshal Service."

"Tell me what you mean about the two of you bein' like family?" Dr. Freid asked.

Raylan shifted in his seat. "You read in the file about my Daddy."

The good doctor nodded her head.

"Boyd started lookin' out after my old man when my Aunt Helen was murdered," he recounted.

"Because you didn't?" she asked.

"Me, take care of Arlo?" he asked in astonishment. "Uh, no. That was never gonna happen."

Again, rifling through the file, Dr. Freid interrupted his story. "Your father admitted to committing two murders after your aunt died. I'd say Boyd didn't do a very good job of takin' care of him."

"And I'd have to agree with you," Raylan nodded, "but you didn't know Arlo. Arlo's mind was goin' for a long time, even before Helen died. In his twisted mind, he thought he was protectin' Boyd."

"From the State Troopers?" the good doctor asked for confirmation.

"No," Raylan answered directly, "from me."

"I don't understand," she said. "Were you going after Boyd?"

"At the time, no more than usual," he stated. "The reason you don't understand is that no sane person could understand what was goin' on in Arlo's head."

"Not even when you're saying your father intended to kill his own son?" she asked, probably with more sensitivity than she'd ever shown to Raylan.

"I didn't take it personally," Raylan said, as a matter of fact. "The man is _'Looney Tunes.'_"

Again, not fully understanding the dynamic, she asked, "Why didn't your father plead guilty by insanity?"

"Because his crooked lawyer, hired by Boyd, had a fool for a client," he answered. "Arlo wouldn't let her enter such a plea."

"And as his son, you didn't intervene on his behalf," she muttered.

"Why should I?" Raylan asked, his tone remaining nice and easy, as if he was just telling a story. "My father was a criminal, a life-long criminal. A tiger doesn't change his stripes. He belongs in prison. He may be crazy, but he knew what he was doin' was wrong, when he did it."

"You harbor a lot of hatred for your father," Dr. Freid observed.

"I wouldn't call it hatred. There's no love lost between either one of us," Raylan explained. "We were never close, even livin' in the same house when I was growin' up. It's unfortunate I had a son-of-a-bitch for a father, but I did. It happens."

Then, extemporaneously and under his breath, he muttered, "Shit, I owe the _Swear Jar_ another two bucks."

"The _Swear Jar_?" she asked, thinking it was something they had at the office.

Raylan tightened his jaw. "I'm tryin' to clean up my language. I have a new baby daughter," he explained.

"You sometimes refer to your father in the past tense," Dr. Freid picked upon what Raylan had said. "Is he dead?"

Raylan let out a sigh. "No, but he might as well be. He'll die in prison. We've said everything we need to say to one another. I'm at peace with it."

Dr. Freid continued scribbling, noting the finality of Raylan's statements in that he did, indeed, appear to be at peace with his decision to be done with his father.

"How do you plan on parenting your daughter differently then you were parented by Arlo?" she asked, pen to pad, pleased he brought up the subject.

"That's easy. As far as Arlo's concerned, I ask myself, _'What would Arlo do?'_ And then, I do the 180 degree opposite," Raylan stated, as if he'd given a lot of thought about this question before. "And that's been true of child rearin', the way I make my livin', treat Winona, breathin'."

"What do you think made you different from your father?" she asked, staying with the subject.

"That's another easy one," he offered. "That would be my mother. And then, her sister, Helen, after her. Those women gave me a good foundation of what is right and wrong, how to care about someone other than myself. Arlo never had any of that. He's a primitive, unevolved, criminal."

"Is there anything good your father gave to you?" she asked, knowing full well the importance of the father-son relationship.

"I get my gift of gab, my ability to tell a good story from Arlo," Raylan lamented. "We share a quick wit, a sense of humor. If he hadn't been such an SOB and a criminal, I might have even liked him. Others did, just not anyone close to him."

"Are you suggesting Boyd was really not that close to him?" she continued to pry a little deeper.

"Probably not," Raylan answered, never having the thought before. "Then again, if you'd had a daddy like Boyd's? I can see why Boyd looked at my daddy as a substitute father. Plus, they were in the same line of work. They ran the Harlan weed business for a while after the Bennett's reign ended. As you may or may not know, the Marshal Service is no longer interested in the weed business."

"So let me ask you a simple question," Dr. Freid asked, glancing at the clock. "Why is it that you can be done with a criminal like your father, and yet, you still have a connection with Boyd Crowder? You are so _'cut and dry'_ with Arlo, and yet with Boyd, I don't see that at all. In my view, I don't see much difference between the two men, and yet, you do. Why do you think that is? Why is your perception of the two men different than mine?"

Raylan looked at the therapist with a sudden hunch. "You know the answer to your own question, don't you?"

"I have my suspicions," she replied.

"Well, then why don't you save both of us a lot of time and clue me in?" he asked, gesturing his hand between Dr. Freid and himself.

"I can't do that, Marshal," she said. "It has to come from you. But I can tell you that it has to do with you."

The puzzled look on his face showed Dr. Freid that he was further away from the answer to his question than she thought.

"That's all the time we have today," she said. "I'll leave you to ponder that question for our session next week."

"_It's the million dollar question,"_ Raylan whispered, under his breath.

_(To be continued)_


	18. Chapter 18

Title: The Swear Jar 18/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: M

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Later that evening_

Seated across the booth from Winona at _La Cantina_, Raylan seemed like he was a thousand miles away.

"A penny for your thoughts," Winona broke the silence, as she dipped a tortilla chip into a dish of salsa before taking a bite.

Raylan didn't respond, still staring off somewhere into space. Finally, Winona reached across the table and lovingly squeezed his arm. Only then did he come back to her.

"Hey? Where were you just now, Cowboy? Because you sure weren't here with us," she remarked, referring to herself and Caitlin who was seated next to her in the booth, napping in her infant seat.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking in deep breath and placing his hand over hers. "Remember I told you I was goin' to see the Department shrink?"

"Yeah," she said, grabbing another chip with her free hand.

"Well, I saw her today, and she asked me a question she already knew the answer to," he began. "Problem is, I don't, and she won't tell me the answer. Said I had to figure it out for myself."

Winona was hungry. This was the plight of a pregnant woman who takes care of an infant whose needs always come first. She hadn't eaten much all day. While rummaging through the basket for more chips, she asked, "Is it something maybe I could help you with? I do know you pretty well."

"Maybe. You've never understood why I deal with Boyd differently than other criminals," he recounted. "You've said that to me before."

"Well, yeah," she responded.

"And yet, I haven't seen it the way you do," he continued.

"That's pretty obvious," she said.

"The question the shrink asked me was, _'Why is that?'_" he gave her hand another squeeze. "Why do I see things differently than you or Art or anyone else at the office?"

"Because Boyd makes you think he's like your family?" she put it out there.

"Naw," he shook his head. "We talked about that today. He's not my family. I'm clear on that. So, what else could it be?"

At that moment, the waitress arrived with two hot plates and placed a platter of chicken enchiladas in front of Winona, and a combination platter of tamales and chiles relleno in front of Raylan.

"Can I bring you anything else?" the young woman asked her customers.

"Yeah," Raylan answered, passing his empty beer bottle to the waitress, while at the same time he asked her if she would be so kind as to bring him another beer.

By the time the waitress had left their table, Winona was well into her first enchilada, almost ready to start in on the next one.

"Well? Can ya'? Think of anything else?" Raylan wouldn't let it go.

The waitress immediately returned with the beer, from which Raylan promptly took a pull from the long neck bottle.

Waiting until they were again alone, Winona chose her words very carefully. "Sometimes, I wonder if you might think that you could have turned out like Boyd. Like you could have been him."

Raylan looked puzzled. "You think I could have turned out like Boyd?"

"Raylan, Honey," she reached for his hand. "I think it's only by the grace of God that _you didn't_ turn out like him or like your Daddy. It's a testament to your strength of character that you didn't."

He listened to her, his brown eyes boring into her blues.

"Do you think that maybe you feel guilty because you came out of Harlan better than Boyd did?" she asked. "Or Ava, or so many of the people you grew up with?"

"Guilty?" he winced. "I don't feel guilty."

Winona gazed into his eyes. "I'm talking about _'survivor's guilt.'_ You know, the kind of guilt when you made it out of Harlan, but they didn't." She gave his hand a squeeze. "I don't know. You asked me what it could be. And that's what crossed my mind. It's not the first time."

"It's not?" he asked.

"Look, it's not that I don't think Boyd and Ava aren't responsible for their actions," she continued. "They're adults. Of course they're responsible for choice they've made. But there was a time when they were younger, and they aren't responsible for where they come from. None of us are responsible as children. It's like that saying, _"There but for the grace_ _of God go I."_ In a world of such random occurrences like which family we're born into, it could have just as easily been you who chose another path, had it not been for fate or God stepping in on your behalf. You're the lucky one."

Raylan exhaled and took another pull on his beer. Then, he shook his head. "I dunno," he said. "I've never thought of myself as lucky. It didn't just happen that I got out of Harlan. I worked hard to get out."

"I know you did," Winona smiled at him. "But you also had help. And maybe they didn't. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Raylan looked down at his plate and unwrapped his tamales, tossing the corn husk wrappings aside on his bread plate. "I understand what you're suggestin', but I don't feel guilty about leavin' any of them behind," he said.

Getting a little frustrated, Winona answered with, "That's all I've got. If that's not it, then you tell me, why?"

Raylan shrugged his shoulders as he took a bite of the tamale. "I don't know." Then, he huffed, "I've got a week to figure it out."

After finishing her meal, long before Raylan finished his, Winona left the table to visit the Ladies' Room. A moment later, little Cait began to whimper.

"Hey, now," Raylan's attention was immediately diverted to his daughter. "What's all the fussin' about?"

His long arm reached across the table, grabbed the handle of the baby's seat carrier, and lifted it over the table and then lowered it onto the bench next to him. He noticed that the baby was drooling. Winona had mentioned that she thought Cait might be teething. Raylan then called the waitress over and asked for a shot of bourbon. While waiting for her to return, he opened the latch on the carrier, picked up Caitlyn, and lifted her up to his shoulder while giving the diaper the old smell test. Her diaper seemed fine.

"Na-na-na-na," the baby protested.

Finally the waitress arrived with the shot. After she left, Raylan dipped his index finger into the spirit and then into Cait's mouth, rubbing her gums.

"Is that a tooth?" he asked his baby girl in astonishment, as she clamped her jaw down.

She stopped fussing. He could feel a hard swelling on her lower gums. After she worked hard to gum off all the bourbon, Raylan dipped his finger down into the shot glass again, and began rubbing Cait's gums. Only this time, the baby clamped down, really hard.

"Sonofabitch!" he exclaimed.

"Raylan!" Winona chastised him, arriving back at the table, just in time to hear him curse.

Then, she held her hand out. "A dollar please," she insisted, as she took her seat. "For the _Swear Jar_."

"But … she bit me!" he protested. "It hurts!"

Then, suddenly, Winona's eyes became wide. "Raylan Givens, are you actually giving that baby bourbon?!"

"I rubbed a little on her gums," he explained. "And you'll notice, she's no longer fussin'. By the way, did you know her bottom tooth just broke through the gum?"

"It did?" she asked, her eyes all wide.

Winona was all about her baby's _'firsts.'_

"Just now," he nodded, still in pain, "it broke through on my finger."

"See? I told you she's been teething," Winona proudly took in the confirmation that her maternal suspicions had been right, all along.

"Yeah," he nodded his head. "I'm gonna have a bruise on this finger. Her jaws are strong."

Protectively hugging her breasts with her arms, Winona said with a pained look on her face, "Tell me about it."

Winona's previous anger turned into fascination, as she carefully watched her man with their baby.

"You've got such a nice way with her, you know?" she offered with a sweet smile.

"Is that your way of apologizin' to me?" Raylan looked up and into Winona's eyes. "You didn't know that I'm_'The Baby Whisperer,'_ now, did ya?"

He smiled, and Winona laughed, as he dipped his finger into the shot glass once more.

"Don't give her too much of that," Winona said with concern in her voice.

Raylan shook his head. "Don't need to. She's a light weight … doesn't handle her whiskey very well … not yet."

Looking over the table, Winona looked to see that Caitlyn's eyes were becoming very sleepy.

"She'll be back to sleep in no time," he said. "In fact, why don't you order some desert?"

Her appetite hand not gone unnoticed by him.

Winona smiled again. "Well, I was kind of looking at the flan."

"Knock yourself out, little momma," he smiled. "Did you eat like this when you were pregnant with her?" he asked, referring to Caitlyn.

Raylan asked because he really didn't know. He wasn't around Winona very much when she was pregnant with Cait. She wouldn't let him be around her.

"I don't think so," she answered. "But I wasn't missing meals while taking care of a baby when I was pregnant with her. I really don't eat as much as you might think I do."

"You're not sittin' on the sofa, eatin' bonbons all day while I'm hard at work?" he teased.

She laughed again. She loved Raylan when he was like this: relaxed, funny, and witty.

"Not hardly," she answered. "You've watched Cait all by yourself. You know what it takes."

By now, the baby was sound to sleep, and Raylan was able to slowly remove his finger out of her bow shaped mouth. He promptly dunked his entire throbbing digit into a nearby glass of ice water.

Looking at his bruised finger through the frosted water glass, Winona remarked, "Wow, you weren't kidding. She really did bite down hard."

"And yet, I love her, anyway," he said and smiled, the kind of a smile that went all the way to the crinkles of his eyes, "even though she _bit the hand that feeds her._"

"Oh, no," Winona shook her head, smiling just as big as Raylan's. "_My hand_ is the one that feeds her. Well, not exactly my hand," she giggled, "but you know what I mean."

"Point taken," he responded, finally removing his nearly frozen finger from the glass.

And then, the picked up what was left in his shot glass, and downed the remaining bourbon, burning the back of his throat.

After Winona finished an order of flan and Raylan another shot of whiskey, Raylan drove his little family back to their house. Even though the next day was a work day for Raylan, the night was still fairly young.

Carrying the baby and her gear into the house, Raylan headed toward the bedroom and to the crib. Winona walked up behind him and growled in his ear.

"How about you put Caitlyn to bed, and I go and change into something a little more comfortable?" she purred.

"Hmmm," he pretended to be underwhelmed. "Is this another one of those horny pregnant lady propositions I hear so much about?"

Winona reached around him and slowly, skillfully began stroking around the fly of his jeans. Standing there, holding his sleeping baby, Raylan's body immediately responded to Winona's lingering touch.

"I'll be right back," she whispered, leaving him to think about her proposition, and then, she disappeared.

Needing a few minutes to compose himself, he carefully lowered Cait into her crib and changed her diaper. The sleeping babe did not wake. He then, put on one of her clean sleepers and turned on her night light. Next, he made his way to the other bathroom to wash his hands and clean up.

A little while later, he returned to the bedroom in his t-shirt and boxers, to find Winona already in bed, waiting for him. He removed his wristwatch and placed it on the night stand, and dimmed the lamp before sliding under the sheets.

"Now," he whispered, scooping Winona into his arms, "where were we?"

They fell into a kiss, as their bodies began a perfectly synchronized dance with Winona ending up on top. She slid his boxers down over his hips and carefully lowered herself, until they were one. Raylan noticed she was showing much sooner with this pregnancy, and her breasts were ripe and full.

They gazed into one another's eyes when he reached up and cupped the side of her face in his hand. Then, slowly, she began to move, grinding her hips against his. Slow motion movements continued until their breathing quickened and hearts began to race.

Winona was randy alright. It was like she couldn't get enough of her cowboy these days. Not that Raylan minded, either, but their frequent coupling made their bodies more in tune than they had ever been. She moved and she moved until her pleasure heightened and then, she could feel her herself at the brink.

"Raylan," she moaned, at the moment of her release.

In response, he deliberately held her quivering body upright by her hips. He slowed his deliberate movements until her spasms slowed to match his speed. And then, he moved until he caught the wave of her spasms and brought her to release for a second time.

"Oh, God," she gasped, leaning forward until she was holding her spent body up by her forearms.

She leaned down and kissed him deeply, as she shook and quaked again, on top of him. Then, suddenly, she could feel him moving deeper and deeper until his own, subsequent release.

Raylan held her tight. Breathing heavily, he stroked her hair.

"Winona?" he gasped.

"Yeah?" she answered, her head now on his shoulder.

"Let's get married," he panted, kissing her on the temple, "soon."

Raising herself up, she placed each of her hands along the sides of his face and stared into his eyes.

"I mean it," he said. "I don't want to wait any longer. I want us to be married."

A smile came over Winona's face.

"Okay," she nodded.

And very slowly, but surely, they began to make love, one more time.

_(To be continued…)_


	19. Chapter 19

Title: The Swear Jar 19/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A very short time later, Raylan opened his eyes and surmised that he and Winona had drifted off together in the afterglow of their lovemaking, as he was still holding her. It was at that same moment, he became very aware that his finger, the one the baby had bitten, had a throbbing pulse all its own. He winced in pain. How such a little injury could hurt that bad was a mystery to him, but it did.

A sleeping Winona was lying on the outstretched arm that was attached to the hand of his throbbing finger. Ever so gently, he rolled her over on her side and freed his arm, successful in that he did not wake her. He then, instinctively, brought his hand up and held it close to his heart.

"_Shit," _he let out the resigned expletive to himself._ "That's my trigger finger."_

He lay there for a moment, hoping that the restored circulation to his hand would make the throbbing subside, but that did not happen. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, he could tell his finger was swollen. He quietly left the bed, slipped on his boxers, and crept to the kitchen in bare feet.

He pulled out a bag of frozen corn from the freezer and wrapped it around his hand.

"_Damn," _he swore, under his breath.

Flipping on the light switch, Raylan then headed for a cabinet where Winona kept all their medications. He rummaged through the assortment of bottles and containers on the bottom shelf until he found the Extra Strength Excedrin he was looking for. He shook 3 caplets out of the bottle with his good hand and swallowed them down with a couple of swigs from his nearby bottle of bourbon.

He carried the bottle into the dark living room and stretched himself out on the sofa, propping his iced hand up on the back cushion.

"_There's no point in keeping Winona up, just because I can't sleep,"_ he thought to himself.

At least the painful throbbing was coming down a notch, to a dull roar. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he rewound the day in his mind, while he continued to sip on the bourbon. In particular, he was thinking about what the shrink had said and then, the conversation he had about it with Winona at dinner.

Then, his thoughts turned back to Dr. Freid. How could she know the answer to what made him tick, even if he didn't and refuse to share her thoughts with him? Their dynamic made him uncomfortable. The way she questioned him was similar to the way he interrogated suspects. He never asked them a question unless he already knew the answer. The problem Raylan had with the shrink was that he was not a suspected criminal, and further, he had nothing to hide. Remaining deep in thought and sipping his bourbon, he eventually nodded off, still holding onto the bottle.

"_Raylan. Wake up."_

_Raylan was vaguely aware he was being shaken but could not open his eyes. Suddenly, he was aware that his nose and mouth were being covered and then, he heard a strange hissing sound._

"_That's it. Breathe, damn it!"_

_The volume of the voice was muffled, but the tone was unmistakably sharp. _

"_Good. Take in another one."_

_Suddenly, Raylan began to cough and cough and cough. He then felt himself being helped up to a sitting position. As he continued to cough and breathe, his eyes fluttered opened. All he could see was darkness. There was a plastic mask on his face that covered his nose and mouth, and he reached up with hand to push it away._

"_Leave the mask on and take a few more deep breaths."_

_Raylan did as he was told, and as he began to come to, he asked "Where, where am I?"_

"_Down in the mine shaft," the voice replied. "Where'd you think we were?"_

_This time, Raylan did push the oxygen mask away from his face and struggled to sit up a little taller. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, and he could now see the face of the man who was helping him. Raylan was astonished to see it was Boyd Crowder, only he looked some 25 years younger with a full head of hair. The look on Raylan's face was one of total confusion._

"_There was a cave in," Boyd explained, keeping his voice down. "What I wanna know is … what the hell were you thinkin'?"_

"_Thinkin'? About what?" Raylan muttered, his brain scrambled._

_Raylan could feel that he was sitting on hard, cold ground. He was covered with fresh dirt and rocks._

_Satisfied that his friend was going to be okay, Boyd lit into him as best he could while keeping his voice down, so as not to threaten any more earth movement. "You tripped the wire on the booby trap I set, you dumb shit, and it caused the wall to come in on us."_

_Raylan brought his hand up to steady his spinning head. "Wha?" he repeated, still not tracking well._

_Annoyed, Boyd played along and asked him, "Who am I?"_

"_Boyd," Raylan answered, thinking the question was stupid._

"_And how many fingers am I holdin' up?" Boyd asked, holding up four fingers._

"_Four," Raylan immediately answered._

"_And what are we doin' down here, Raylan?" Boyd asked, waiting for an answer._

_Raylan again looked confused. "I dunno," he answered in all honesty._

"_Well you should," Boyd said, "because you're the one who brought us down into this goddam' abandoned mine shaft."_

_Eyes wide in the dark, Raylan shook his head. Nothing Boyd said was registering._

_Boyd shook his head in disbelief. "Hell, you musta hit your head harder than I thought," Boyd hissed. Then, he decide he'd better refresh his friend's memory. "We came down here to stash the cash you took from Arlo."_

"_Cash? What are you talkin' about?" Raylan continued to try and make sense of his predicament._

_Boyd smiled a toothy grin. "Now, don't that beat all? I could get us outta here and come back for the cash and keep it all to myself. But I wouldn't do that to you because you're my friend, although I'm beginnin' to wonder if the tables were turned, if you'd do the same for me?"_

"_What are you talkin' about, Boyd?" Raylan responded through glassy eyes._

_Boyd's smile turned into a sneer. "What I'm sayin' is, I'm beginnin' to have second thoughts about our arrangement. 'cause if you would steal from your own father, you could easily screw me. Maybe I should leave you down in this hole to rot with your money. I could come back and get it after you're long gone."_

"_Boyd, please," Raylan leaned back against the cool, vertical wall. "You know I don't like bein' underground. And I don't know what you're talkin' about … about any money. I just wanna get out of here and go home."_

_Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Boyd prodded a little more. "You want me to believe you don't remember anything about the money?"_

_Raylan reached up and held both sides of his head. "Look, my head is poundin'. I don't know anything about any money."_

_Suddenly feeling woozy, Raylan closed his eyes._

"Raylan, Raylan. Honey," Winona said, giving her man a firm shake.

"Just get me the hell outta here, Boyd!" he yelled in his sleep.

"Raylan! Wake up!" Winona shook him even harder. "You're having a bad dream."

By now, he was thrashing about in his sleep. "Wha?" Raylan's eyes flew open in a wild flash.

"You were having some kind of a dream," she repeated herself.

Not knowing where he was, Raylan tried to pull himself together. He looked shaken.

"You were yelling, _'Just get me the hell out of here, Boyd,'_" she quoted him, verbatim. "Do you know what that means?" she asked with concern in her voice.

"A mine," he gave an extemporaneous answer. "We were trapped down in a mine shaft. It caved in," he went on. "There was a big cave in."

Now that he was still, Winona took a seat on the sofa next to him. She had her hand on his leg, almost in an effort to keep him calm.

"You never told me you were trapped in a mine," she responded to what he had just said.

In all the years she had known him, from all the stories he had told, this was the first time she ever heard about something like this. Sure, he had told her his _'fire in the hole'_ stories where he and Boyd would race out of a mine ahead of an explosion, many times. But he'd never talked about being trapped in a cave in.

Raylan literally shook the cobwebs out of his head. "It was a dream," he finally concluded. "We were trapped … in the dream."

"You and Boyd," she completed his thought.

"Yeah, Boyd was there," he continued, "in the dream."

Winona stroked his leg, offering comfort. "What do you think made you dream a dream like that?" she asked.

"I dunno," Raylan said, still trying to settle himself. "Maybe all this talk about me and Boyd the last day or so set it off. That'd be my guess."

A moment later, he glanced at his wrist watch. "Shit, I gotta get showered and over to the office."

Winona smiled. "Another dollar … for the _Swear Jar_, Cowboy. How about I get the coffee going and fix you something to eat … to go … while you're in the shower?"

"Sounds good," he said, and he began to stand.

"Hey," she stopped him in his tracks. "Please don't wake the baby. I just put her back down. I'd like to get some breakfast and a quick shower myself before I start my day."

Raylan put his arms around his lady love. "I'll hurry and stay here long enough so that you can get a shower before I leave. Sound good?"

Winona gave her man a squeeze around the middle. "Thank you," she said.

She appreciated his help, more than she could say.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Raylan made it to the office and to his desk before Art made it in. As his boss passed by his desk, Art couldn't help but make a remark.

"Good mornin', Sunshine," he quipped. "You look like hell. Couldn't you sleep last night?"

Under his breath, Raylan asked, "Could I talk to you for a minute?"

Art flashed him a look. "I tell you what. You bring me a cup of the shitty coffee we have, and I'll give you five minutes. Deal?"

"Deal," Raylan agreed.

A few minutes later, Raylan walked into Art's fishbowl of an office bearing gifts.

"Duncan Donut coffee? And a bear claw?" Art's eyebrows raised from behind his desk. "God bless you."

"No, God bless Tim," Raylan clarified. "He made the coffee run this mornin'."

Raylan then passed over the cup of coffee and pastry to his boss.

"What the hell did you do to your hand?" Art asked, noticing Raylan's discolored finger.

"You mean my trigger finger," he elaborated. "That's why I need to talk to you."

"Well, have a seat," Art motioned to a chair in front of his desk. "So again, what happened?"

Raylan grimaced. "I know I'm never gonna live this down, but the baby bit me."

Surprised by what he'd heard, Art said, "Your sweet little angel did _that_?"

"Yeah," Raylan confirmed. "She bit down … _hard_."

"Did you have it looked at?" Art asked, referring to a doctor.

"Naw," Raylan looked down at his black and blue digit. "I don't think it's broken. Just swollen. But I can't bend it. Now, I know you're gonna say I could go lefty, but I'd rather not."

Taking a bite of his bear claw and swallowing it down with a sip of his coffee, Art was thinking. "You could catch up with your paper work for the next couple days. But you will go get that seen about, alright?"

"Alright," Raylan agreed.

Raylan hated doing paperwork, almost more than anything. It was like torture to him, but he also knew he wouldn't be good backup with no trigger finger.

He then abruptly changed the subject. "I asked Winona to get married."

"I thought you two were already engaged," Art didn't understand.

"Well, yeah. We are, but we never set the date," he went on. "I told her I want us to be married … soon."

"Any thought of where you want to do it?" Art asked.

"Well, I know we've talked about wantin' somethin' small. You know we've done this before," he elaborated. "We really haven't talked any more about it than that."

Art leaned back in his office chair. "I'm just gonna put this out there. Faylene has been askin' me what you were gonna do about your ceremony and reception. She said we could offer our place if you'd like."

"You're kiddin? You'd do that for me?" Raylan was touched.

"Sure," Art said. "Faylene lives for this kinda thing. Weddin's and babies."

"Well, let me talk to Winona," he answered, "see what she says." Then, after a beat, Raylan added, "By the way … I wanted to ask you if you'd stand up there with me. You know, be my Best Man?"

Surprised, Art responded with, "I always figured you'd want Tim to throw your Bachelor Party."

Raylan smiled. "C'mon now. Don't you think I've had enough Bachelor Parties livin' at a college bar this past year? Because Winona sure does."

Art laughed. "You _are_ the only man I've ever known who honestly does not need to have a Bachelor Party."

"I had my cake and ate it, too," Raylan quipped.

"You sure did," Art concurred. "Raylan, I'd be honored to stand up there with you, on your weddin' day."

"Thanks," Raylan said. "I would shake your hand, but …"

"No, no," Art shook his head. "I understand."

After an awkward pause, Raylan stood up from the chair, ready to make his exit but was stopped in his tracks.

"Did you meet with Dr. Freid yesterday afternoon?" Art slyly followed up.

"I did," Raylan turned around.

"And? How did it go?" Art asked, knowing it was none of his business, but he tried, anyway.

Raylan shifted his weight. "We got right down to business. I think we discovered this is gonna take a few sessions."

"Alright," Art gave up, knowing Raylan well enough to know he wasn't going to get any more out of him than what he had already said. "I guess you have some paperwork with your name on it?"

Raylan nodded, knowing he didn't give Art what he wanted. "I'm getting' right to it."

And he walked out the door thinking that this was going to be a long few days, weeks.

_(To be continued …)_


	20. Chapter 20

Title: The Swear Jar 20/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After spending most of the morning catching up on departmental paperwork, while being assaulted with jokes about how he sustained his latest injury, Raylan left to go to Minor Emergency to have his finger looked at and obtain a note for Art. He registered with his insurance card and was triaged and was then sent over to X-ray. Then, he was led to a room where he was to wait for a doctor. After about an hour, an older doctor eventually did come in and showed Raylan his X-ray films and where he had a small, hairline fracture near the upper interphalangeal joint, thus the reason for all the swelling, discoloration and discomfort.

"Well, shit," Raylan exclaimed upon hearing this. "Sorry, Doc," he apologized for the expletive.

The doctor then splinted the finger and wrapped his hand. After telling Raylan to come back in a month, Raylan began to freak out. He explained he was a U.S. Marshal and that he needed his finger to do his job. Without discussion, on a prescription pad, the doctor wrote a note explaining the injury and treatment plan, and then, an order for physical therapy that he explained might shave off a week or so off the healing time. Raylan was not happy, but then, he knew he did not have anyone to blame but himself.

After he left Minor Emergency, he returned to the Court House, where he found someone was waiting for him near the parking lot.

"Ava," he said, walking up to the front entrance with a look of stifled surprise on his face. Then, with no emotion whatsoever in his voice, he said, "I'm not your contact anymore with the Marshal Service."

"Well, then, there's no problem now, is there? Because I'm not here on any marshal business," she answered, taking a draw from her cigarette. Unlike the marshal, her tone was in no mood to play games. "And by the way, what did I ever do to you? That lately, you think you're too good to speak to me, anymore?"

"I don't think I'm too good to speak to you," he explained, continuing his level tone. "I asked Tim Gutterson to look out after you. He's a good man."

"I know," she said. "He and that woman marshal came out to Johnny's and introduced themselves." Then, she asked, "What did you do to your hand?"

"It's nothin'," he said. "Looks worse than it is."

Then, there was an awkward pause. Raylan knew Ava could be like a dog on a bone when she wanted something and that he'd best get this over with.

"I'm gettin' re-married," he finally broke the silence, "and we have another baby on the way."

"You don't sound too happy about that," she noted.

"No," he shook his head. "You'd be wrong. I'm _very_ happy," he said in a defensive tone. It was because she was challenging him, and he wasn't in the mood.

"Are you sure?" Ava asked, taking another drag. "Sounds to me like somebody's got you trapped."

"What if I told you that I wanted Winona to trap me?" he asked her. "Because I did. I never wanted _not_ to be married to her. So you see, it's not a bad thing. It's a good thing."

"That's not what you told me when you were screwin' me," she shot back, her eyes becoming small. "You were mad at her, even hated her at times."

Raylan let out a sigh from somewhere deep inside.

"It hurt me when Winona left me," he explained. "I couldn't deal with it then." Then, after a beat he said, "Look, Ava. I didn't mean to hurt you, either. I really liked you, a lot. But the truth is, I didn't know I still had feelin's for Winona until I saw her again."

"You mean until she wanted you back?" she asked, no doubt trying to sting him a little.

Shifting his weight, he continued to explain. "It had to be that way, her wantin' me back. Winona was right to want to leave me."

"Twice?" Ava would not let up.

"Well, I'm kinda stubborn," he continued. Then, under his breath, he quipped, "Just ask my boss."

After another pause, Raylan changed his tactic. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

Tossing the butt on the ground, she responded with, "That depends."

The cigarette butt glowed there on the pavement. It was obvious that Ava was being a little defiant and was not about to put it out, so Raylan extended his leg in her direction and put it out with the toe of his boot.

"What do you want with me, anyways?" he looked up. "You and Boyd have been together for quite some time now."

"Boyd's not here," she said. "You know that."

Raylan tipped his hat back. "And you thought you'd come back to me? After what I did to you?"

Ava arched her back like a cat. "It wasn't all that long ago that you laid a big ol' kiss on me, don't you remember, at the bar? Because I do. It was with your tongue and all. And don't you tell me you were drunk because you weren't."

"I was lonely," he hung his head. "And I really thought Winona was gone that time, for good."

There was a heavy pause.

"So, what you're sayin' is that I'll always come in second to her," she stated with fire in her eyes.

"You don't deserve to be second," he looked up into her eyes. "You should never settle for bein' second." After a beat, he continued, "In another life, in another time, I'd love to be with you. But in this life? No. Winona's my soul mate. I'm just so sorry you got caught up in our … confusion. You don't deserve it."

Ava was now the one who looked down. "So, we can't even be friends, anymore?"

Ever mindful of her proximity to criminal elements, Raylan let out a big sigh. "Not if you want to be more than friends." After a beat, he added, "And not if you're involved in breakin' the law."

Ava thought to herself, _"If you only knew."_

"Why did you get involved with Boyd, anyway?" he asked, in an effort to take the heat off himself.

"Well, unlike you, Boyd wanted me," she explained. "I mean he _really_ wanted me."

"I always thought you got with him to piss me off," Raylan let out a little laugh.

"Did it work?" Ava smiled. "Did it piss you off?"

He nodded, looking up at her from underneath the brim of his Stetson. "You know it did."

"Well, if you don't care nothin' about me, then why do you care what I do or who I see?" she asked. "You're very confusin'."

Shifting his weight, he said, "I know. I am confusin'. But I do care about you. I grew up with you. You know my family. You're an old friend who also happens to be _very_ attractive."

"You still think I'm pretty?" she smiled, looking like the girl next-door.

"That has never been in question," he said, thinking she still wasn't taking no for an answer. He then changed the subject again. "Now that Boyd's in prison, what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know," she answered, not liking the question. "I really don't know."

"You could do anything you wanted to do," Raylan offered, "if you think about it."

"Like what?" she asked, obviously not impressed with the present topic.

"You can't tell me Boyd didn't leave some money," he began. "And I don't want to know anything about his weed money," he tried to reassure her. "You could go back to school or … open your own shop and do hair again, but be your own boss. Heck, I'd even come in and let you cut my hair," he said with a quirky smile.

"You would?" she asked, frankly surprised.

"Yeah, as long as you understand we can only be friends, and you stay away from the criminal element," he reiterated.

Ava returned smiled. "You sure could use a cut. Hell, your hair is long. You look like a …"

"Don't say it," Raylan cut her off.

Ava instantly flashed back to the first time she met Winona, at the Court House, while she was there to meet her attorney when she was being investigated for shooting her husband. Winona told her that it was hard to stay mad at Raylan. After this conversation, she could tell exactly what Winona meant. It was much better to have Raylan as her friend than to have him ignore her, although she didn't recall she had agreed to his terms for retaining a friendship.

Not sure how she felt about things, she decided to have the last word and said with an angelic smile, "A shop of my own, huh? Well, you have given me some food for thought. I'll see you around, Raylan."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Later that night_

A day in the office doing paperwork made the say seem twice as long to Raylan as being out in the field. He couldn't wait until the clock hit 5:00. He made a B-line out the door and to his car, thinking that even sitting in rush hour traffic was preferable to spending one more minute behind his desk.

He finally arrived home after 6:30, and Winona handed him his daughter as soon as he walked through the door.

"I need another set of hands," she said.

It was obvious she had been waiting for him.

"You take her, and I'll hand you a beer," she said, as she passed the baby over.

He took his baby girl and was greeted with a big gummy smile. Then, he asked Winona, "Would you please take my hat off my head, because I can't?"

It was then that she noticed the splint.

"What's that?" she was surprised.

She knew his finger was swollen, but nothing to warrant the wrapping around his hand … or so she thought.

"I have a hair line fracture, and I've been assigned to desk duty because it's my trigger finger," he said, in frustration and embarrassment.

Then, he looked at Cait, holding her in his left arm and pointing at her with his right, splinted finger. "This is all your doin'."

The baby smiled again.

"It's a good thing I like you," he grinned, "or I would have to haul you in for assaultin' a federal marshal."

Winona laughed. Then, she reached over and took his hat off his head and tousled his hair with her free hand.

"Caitlyn, if your Daddy hauls you in, your Momma knows the Judge," she smiled back at Raylan. "And you would plead for leniency because your Daddy was stupid enough to put his boozed up finger in your mouth?"

"Touché," Rayland conceded.

"I've got dinner ready," she said. "Why don't you have a seat with her while I dish it up?"

"You cooked?" he asked, quite seriously.

Winona didn't cook very often.

"Don't get too excited," she flashed him a look. "It's spaghetti with sauce from a jar."

She stood at the stove, filling two plates with the pasta and sauce. Then, she added some salad to the plates and brought them over to the table, followed by the cold bottle of beer she promised.

"I'm sorry you're assigned to desk duty," she said. "I know how much you hate it."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Speakin' of you knowin' the Judge, what would you think about us getting' married over at Art's place?" he asked, trying hard to make a Segway to the previous topic. "Faylene asked him to talk to us, if we didn't have plans. And we don't. Evidently, she's all about weddin's and babies."

"You're right," she said taking a seat beside him and then, reaching to take Cait back.

She placed the babe in her infant seat on top of the table next to her.

"We don't have plans, other than to do this soon," she went on.

After taking a pull on his beer, Raylan said, "We could get married at the Courthouse and have a small reception at their place. Or we could get married at their place, too. Whatever you want. Anyway, if we're interested, Faylene wants you to come over and see what you'd like. She has a couple of ideas from what Art said." Then, he stopped eating and looked her in the eye. "But if you want to do something else? That's okay, and they will understand."

"That is very nice of them," Winona was sincere, "to offer to do that for us. We want to do this soon, and I'm too busy with the baby to plan a wedding, with my quickly expanding waistline. I think it's a great idea."

"Yeah?" he asked, frankly relieved at her reaction.

Twirling her fork through her pasta, she answered, "Yes. Tell Art to tell Faylene yes. And thank them very much. And have him ask Faylene to call so we can get together. Okay?"

"Okay," he nodded, digging into his salad. "Sounds good. Let's get this show on the road.

Changing his tone, Raylan abruptly changed the subject. "When I came back to the office from the doctor, Ava Crowder was waitin' for me at my car," he began. "I had heard that she had been askin' for me ever since Boyd was put in prison. I've been avoidin' her and assigned Tim as her marshal contact to keep her at bay."

"What are you saying here?" Winona asked, feeling the hairs on her arms stood up.

Putting down his fork, Raylan talked with his hands. "What I'm sayin' is, Ava didn't know you and I were back together …"

"… and she wanted you back," she finished his sentence for him.

"Somethin' like that," he said. "But I made it emphatically clear to her that I'm not available nor am I interested."

"Did you tell her we were getting re-married?" she looked up at him.

"Yes, I did," he said and reached over and grabbed her hand. "And I told her that you are my soul mate, the only woman for me."

After a beat, he added, "And I apologized for draggin' her into my confusion. I told her I didn't mean to hurt her."

Winona squeezed his hand. "She really liked you. I could tell that night she stayed with me."

"Ava's always liked me more than I like her," he squeezed her hand back. "I didn't even know she liked me when we were young. And while I will admit that there was a time when that was flatterin', I could never reciprocate her feelin's. It would have never worked between us. You're the only one for me."

"Well, that's sweet you apologized, to her for hurting her," Winona said. "Even I feel bad about that. If I hadn't left you, none of this would have happened."

"I told her you were right to leave me," he squeezed her hand again. "I guess I had some growin' up to do."

"I did, too," she nodded. "I'm just glad we finally did."

Then, it was Winona who changed the subject. "Do you have any special requests for our wedding?"

Finishing the last of his pasta, Raylan said only, "Chocolate cake."

"Your Groom's Cake can be chocolate," she countered, "but the wedding cake will be white."

"Really?" Raylan asked. "Uh, you're not wearin' white … are you?"

She quickly reassured him, "Nooooo, I'm not wearing white." Knowing Raylan as well as she did, she know what his next question would be, so she beat him to the punch. "And I'm not telling you anything more about what I'm wearing. It's bad luck. You're going to have to wait and see."

Finished with his meal, Raylan stood up and took a final pull on his beer.

"I know whatever you wear, you will be a beautiful bride," he reassured her by giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Looking up at him with her big blue eyes, she said, "Not as beautiful as I was the first time."

Raylan cupped the side of her face and gazed into those blue eyes.

"That's not true," he said. "You are even more beautiful than you were the first time."

And he leaned down and gave her a kiss that led them where a kiss always seemed to lead them.

_(To be continued …)_


	21. Chapter 21

Title: The Swear Jar 21/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Exhausted, Raylan hadn't slept but only for a couple of hours the night before. After some enjoyable shower time with Winona, they were ready for bed. For someone who was usually unable to easily fall asleep, he was almost asleep before his head hit the pillow.

_Raylan suddenly found himself aware that he was lurking right outside the master bedroom at his Aunt Helen's house. He never referred to her as his step-mother. That whole 'situation,' as he liked to refer to it, between his father and his dead mother's sister, was a little too backwoods for Raylan's liking._

_He noticed the house was in much better repair and cleanliness, as it was when he was growing up in that house. On this day, Raylan knew his Aunt Helen was gone to the bakery, where she had worked for more than 20 years. She could make a mean chocolate cake with a buttercream filling, and her Harlan County Fair Award Winning jam cake was legendary, a secret recipe passed down from Raylan's grandmother. What he didn't know was Arlo's whereabouts, and frankly, he didn't really care where he was. Just so he was gone long enough for Raylan to do what he had to do._

_He went into the back of the bedroom closet where he carefully searched around until he found what he was looking for … a shovel. Raylan always thought it was odd that Arlo had pick axes and all types of spades and shovels stowed away in his bedroom closet, rather than outside, but then again, Arlo had a different slant than Raylan on about most everything._

_Raylan took the shovel outside to the back of the house and walked towards a pile of rocks, where he began moving the big stones, one by one. It took him some time, but he finally cleared an area where he had, unbeknownst to Arlo, watched his father bury a large tackle box in that very location. He proceeded to dig, straight down. It only took him two shovels full of dirt before he hit the metal box. One thing was for certain, Arlo was lazy, even when it came to hiding his valuables. Raylan grabbed the handle of the heavy, green tackle box and set it above ground. After he regained his composure, he headed for the house._

_Once inside, he took the tackle box to his bedroom. When he opened it, his eyes became as big as saucers. It was full of bank banded stacks of monetary bills. Adrenaline ran through his veins. Excited at the unexpected breadth of his discovery, he then ran to the front of the house and looked out the window to make certain he was still alone. Once satisfied he was, he returned to his bedroom, took one of the bundles of bills, and counted out a stack of fifties that totaled five thousand dollars. He then quickly counted the bundles in the box. There were 100 of them, making a total of $250,000.00. A quarter of a million dollars. All Raylan could think was that his dad must have run another, fraudulent insurance scam, or he robbed a bank … or somebody._

_Quickly, Raylan counted out half, 25 of the stacks. Then, he shook his pillow out of its pillow case and shoved the stacks into the case. Next, he replaced the other 25 stacks back in the tackle box and closed it up. He then went back outside carrying the tackle box and the full pillow case, and he placed the tackle box back in the shallow hole and began to refill the whole and place all of the rocks back on top, just the way he'd found it. After he was finished, he hosed off the shovel, dried it off, and snuck it back in Arlo's closet, again placing it back where he hand found it. _

_He then raced out the door within the pillow case in tow and into his Jimmy truck and drove over to find Boyd. At this time of the day, Boyd could usually be found out off the Interstate, near a clearing at Cumberland River. Boyd and his friends liked to target practice, as he had plans to go into the Marines. It seemed that Boyd also had an abusive, son-of-a-bitch father, and there was nothing for him in Harlan, except more years of working in the mines or for his dad._

_Raylan drove up onto the edge of the clearing and motioned for Boyd to come over, alone without his buddies._

"_Did you come here to shoot some cans with us and throw back a few brews?" Boyd asked as he approached Raylan's driver's side where the window were rolled down. _

"_Boyd, how'd you like to go into the weed business with me?" Raylan asked with a tight smile._

_Boyd looked at him with an expression of questioning on his face._

"_No, I mean it," Raylan continued. "I came across some money that needs to be … reinvented."_

"_You mean … laundered?" Boyd asked, now leaning against the frame of the window._

"_Yeah," Raylan nodded. "And I'd like to turn it into even more money."_

_Boyd couldn't help but think: His daddy was a criminal, just like Raylan's, only Bo Crowder was even more physically abusive to his son than Arlo was to Raylan. Bo owned a small strip club just outside of town, where he also dabbled in drugs and prostitution. The idea of going into business with someone other than his old man was very appealing to Boyd._

"_What you're tellin' me is you got some 'seed money?' Boyd asked, raising an eyebrow with a big toothy grin on his face._

"_I got seed money, fertilizer money, tractor money," Raylan grinned, "but we're gonna need a place to stash some cash until we get ready to set up shop."_

"_How much cash are we talkin' about stashin'?" Boyd asked, suddenly becoming interested._

_Raylan opened up his denim jacket and pulled out four bank stacks of hundreds. He then handed two of the stacks to Boyd. _

"_Two for you … two for me … for now," Raylan's eyes became small. "I split everything with you, 50/50."_

"_Shit!" Boyd said, pulling his body closer to the truck in order to secrete the stack of bills from his friends who were still close to the water, shooting at birds, squirrel, anything they could find._

_Boyd had never seen a bank stack. He then began counting one of the stacks._

"_It's a total of ten grand," Raylan said before Body finished counting. "For you and for me."_

"_No, shit?" Boyd asked with excitement, yet trying to keep his voice down. "And just where did you come across this kinda money?"_

"_Arlo," Raylan answered, as serious as the day was long._

"_You stole from your own daddy?" Boyd asked._

"_Now, you want to get particular about where your money came from?" Raylan laughed. "Hell, Boyd. You'd steal from your own daddy, too, if you could figure out a way to do it."_

_Boyd acquiesced, "You're right about that."_

_After a pause, Boyd asked, "And you say there's a lot more where this comes from?"_

"_There's a lot more," Raylan said. "What I want to do is make some money sellin' weed then, put the money back, so Arlo don't even know it was 'borrowed.'"_

_After a moment of silence, Raylan had an idea and told Boyd about it, against his better judgment. "There's an abandoned mine about a quarter of a mine from Ten Spot. We could lower it down into the shaft, and no one would know where it was but you … and me."_

_Raylan swallowed down a big lump in his throat. _

"_Look, I know you don't like it underground," Boyd began. "By the time I get finished booby trappin' it down in the hole, now one will be able to get to it."_

_Boyd had been blowing up stuff since he was a little kid. Caps, fire crackers, bottle rockets, real rockets. He could build a bomb from scratch._

"_I trust you to get us in and out of that mine without anyone bein' the wiser," Raylan began so that he couldn't back out, "and you need to trust me with your weed contacts."_

_The grin on Boyd's face grew even bigger. "I got some rope and some gear in my car. And I'll need to swing by the hardware store to pick a few things I'll need to make a trip wire. Let me grab my stuff, and we'll leave these guys here to shoot 'em up, while you and I will go stow away that money. Then, I'll introduce you to a few people."_

_Boyd left Raylan to go and tell his buddies that he'd be back in a few hours, and then, he grabbed a few things from the trunk of his. Soon, he was riding shotgun in Raylan's Jeep, as they took off for town._

"_Where's the money?" Boyd asked as Raylan drove._

"_Behind my seat," Raylan motioned with one hand still on the steering wheel," inside the pillow case._

_Reaching behind him, Boyd grabbed the pillow case and pulled it over onto his lap._

"_Holy shit!" he exclaimed, looking at the stacks of bill inside the white cotton case. Looking up and over at Raylan, he asked, "How much?"_

"_There was a hundred and twenty-five thousand, of which I just gave us each ten," Raylan said, "to show you some good faith. So, that leaves another hundred and five thousand in the bag."_

_Boyd rolled down his window and yelled, "Woo Hoo!"_

_The two young men smiled big smiles at one another. Never had they dreamed of so much money._

_Finally, Raylan asked, "How much do you think we need to get into the weed business?"_

"_We can get in for about twenty-five thousand to start," Boyd started. "That's enough to show we're serious players. Plus we gotta pay some hired help because you and I sure ain't gonna deal."_

"_You got someone in mind?" Raylan asked. _

"_Yeah, I do," he shook his head. "I know a couple of guys who won't smoke up all their profits."_

"_And we pay them in money or grass?" Raylan continued to ask questions._

"_With these two guys," Boyd explained, "we pay 'em in cash. You always pay … no matter if it's ass, gas, or grass … no one rides free."_

"_And how fast do you think we can turn the money around?" Raylan continued to learn about a business in which he knew nothing about._

"_I'd say a week, maybe less," Boyd answered. "Once we get this down, we can do more than twenty-five grand at a time … move the money faster."_

_Raylan became very quiet._

"_You worried your old man will find the money is missin' before we can make it back?" Boyd could only imagine what his friend was thinking._

_Raylan decided to answer his question with another question. "If it was Bo, and not Arlo … and if it was you, and not me … what do you think would happen?"_

_Boyd shuddered. "Say no more."_

_The wheels in both their head were turning when Raylan finally spoke. "What if we took the middle of the stacks, and replaced them with paper? I mean, it wouldn't fool anyone, but it might buy us some time."_

"_Look at you," Boyd grinned, "all brains of this operation. I guess we'd better stop at the Ben Franklin store and buy some paper and a pair of scissors."_

_Raylan sighed. "That would take too long. What we need is that play money they sell in the toy aisle. We might have to hit more than one store to get enough. And we'll need some glue to put the bands back around the stacks."_

_They stopped at the Ben Franklin stores in Harlan, Pikesville, and Corbin, before they found enough play money, rubber cement, and rubber bands. They also bought a denim backpack to store the money and stopped by the hardware store as their second stop while in Harlan. Then, they turned back around and headed towards Ten Spot. _

_Boyd asked Raylan for his 2 banded stacks of $10,000 back, and place them along with his, back with the others, and he explained what he had to do. With the 25 original stacks, Boyd carefully removed all but the inner and outer bill of each and replaced the middle bills with the toy money. He accidentally broke the band off during the first few attempts, but he soon got the hang of it. Next, he then rubber banded the remaining middle bills. He continued the same process over and over again, until he created 25 fake stacks which he placed back into the pillow case … all but the first 3 where he broke the bands._

_Of the new rubber banded stacks of 98 bills, each containing $4,900.00, he handed 2 stacks back to Raylan and kept 2 for himself. He then placed all the rest into the back pack. $25,000.00 would be used for their first drug purchase. The last thing he did was to glue the paper bands around the first three stacks that he broke._

_Raylan quickly rolled down the window, as the fumes from the rubber cement overtook the air in the car. It was giving him a headache and making him sick to his stomach._

"_Damn, are you tryin' to poison us?" he said, under his breath._

_Concentrating on the task at hand, Boyd said, "Sorry … I'm almost done."_

_After the paper bands tried, Boyd carefully placed the three stacks on top of the others inside the pillow case and the pillow case back behind Raylan's seat._

"_There," Boyd proudly announced. "You go and put those back where Arlo had them, and he'll never know the difference until we're ready to replace them. And if we can't, you can always blame the Bennett boys for the missin' money."_

_Raylan thought it wasn't a bad idea to blame the Bennetts, if Arlo discovered money was missing. The Givens clan had been feudin' with the Bennetts for as long as he could remember. His daddy had told him the feud had been goin' on since his daddy, and then, his daddy before him. No doubt that Arlo would jump to the immediate conclusion that the Bennetts were behind any ill will that befell him. And replacing money with stacks of fake money would be just the Bennetts' style. The more Raylan thought about it, the better he liked the idea: Maybe he could not replace the money he stole. Hell, maybe he could go back and get the rest of it … and not share it with Boyd. _

_He thought it best to keep his thoughts to himself._

"_You're awfully quiet over there," Boyd observed, as they reached their destination. "You gettin' anxious about goin' down?"_

_Boyd had gone down underground with Raylan, many a time this past year at work. Some guys didn't mind it so much; some guys never could get used to it. Raylan fell into the latter category._

"_I thought you might," he continued, as Raylan slammed the jeep into 'PARK.' "That's why I grabbed this."_

_He held up a bottle of tequila. Raylan could see the worm floating in the golden liquid. _

"_Liquid courage in a bottle," Boyd went on._

_He screwed of the cap and passed the bottle over to his friend._

"_Take a couple of shots of this, and you'll be right as rain," Boyd instructed._

_Raylan did has he said, taking down two quick gulps._

"_Oh, shit!" he growled._

"_Burns, don't it?" Boyd grinned._

"_No," Raylan screwed up his face, "it tastes like shit! Where the hell did you get this awful stuff?"_

"_From Mexico, you idiot. Where d'ya think?" Boyd shot back. "Now you know why they call it 'ta-kill-ya,'" he laughed. "C'mon now. There a job we got do, and then, we'll go buy us some serious weed."_

_They carried the gear to the entrance of a big open pit. Boyd grabbed for his rope and began making a loop._

"_I lower you down first, and then, this bag of gear," Boyd explained. "And then, I join you. Just think, as soon as we make some more cash, I'll order us a ladder rope and some flashlight helmets. Or we can steal 'em from work," he grinned._

_Ladder rope, flashlight or not, Raylan didn't think anything would help make this any easier._

_When Boyd was finished, he said, "C'mon now, let's get you down there."_

_Raylan slipped his foot into the loop and tested it with his weight, before Boyd began to lower him down. He hung onto that rope for dear life, kicking himself away from the vertical wall, but not before he got a good smell of the cool, damp earth. He felt himself being lowered deeper and deeper into the darkness below, and his stomach churned and his heart began to race. Taking in a deep breath of the musty air as he had been trained to do at work, before he passed out from sheer fear, he slowly blew out the air in his lungs in an effort to stay calm and present._

_As Boyd slowly and methodically dropped him about six inches at a time, Raylan waited and waited until his feet hit the earth below. With each drop, he told himself he was almost there. But the bottom never came. He held himself even closer to the rope and closed his eyes._

"_Shit!" he cursed, enveloped in sheer panic._

Raylan awoke in a start to find himself in bed with Winona, covered in beads of sweat. He looked over at Winona and found she was still sound to sleep.

He placed his hand over his forehead and shook his head, remembering everything he had just dreamt.

Under his breath, he said to himself, _"Hell, I'm gonna have to stop goin' to sleep."_

_(To be continued …)_


	22. Chapter 22

Title: The Swear Jar 22/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Disturbed and exhausted by the dreams of the last two nights, Raylan had a harder time than usual concentrating on paper work. He was alone at the office, as Rachel and Tim had been called out on a prison transport for the day, and Art was attending a mandatory training out of town … one he had vehemently bitched about having to attend for weeks on end.

Raylan tried to concentrate on the report on his computer screen, but his mind continued to wonder back to the same disturbing thought: Could it be that he really started off no different than Boyd, or possibly, _even worse_? Or were these sudden dreams the result of all the recent Boyd talk and subsequent analysis by the shrink and then, Winona?

The long morning at his desk consisted of consuming four cups of bad coffee and a couple of stale donuts, causing Raylan to miss his fellow deputies who were usually on hand to make a coffee run for the good stuff. Partaking so much of the bad stuff left him with a rumbly, acid stomach and no desire for more coffee. As the caffeine began to leave his system, staring at his computer screen, he felt his eyes becoming heavy … so heavy he could no longer hold them open, and his head slowly lowered to his desk.

_Raylan finally did feel the bottom of the hole with his feet. He untangled his foot from the loop and gave the rope a tug, signaling Boyd to hoist the rope back up. _

_In the darkness there was silence as, unbeknownst to Raylan, Boyd had disappeared. As the seconds turned into minutes, Raylan began to grow concerned that Boyd lowered him down there with all the loot up above ground. Boyd could be that kind of a guy. _

_After a beat, Raylan called up, "Boyd?"_

_Less than a minute later, Boyd's head popped over the side of the hole, staring down at Raylan in the dark hole._

"_You were afraid I'm gonna leave you down there, and the money up here with me?" Boyd let out a creepy laugh._

_This time when Boyd lowered the rope again, the backpack and the bag of Boyd's gear were attached. In the pitch black darkness, Raylan could hear them coming down towards him. _

"_There's a flashlight in my bag," Boyd called down into the hole._

_Raylan finally felt the one of the bags touch the top of his head, and he let out a sigh of relief. He guided them the rest of the way down, unhooked them from the rope, and gave it another little tug as a signal. He felt for the zipper of Boyd's bag. Once opened, he felt around inside until he found the flashlight. He turned it on and pointed it up towards Boyd._

_He then pulled the rope, testing its security, and began descending down. Unlike Raylan, Boyd could scale a wall like a spider. He held onto the rope and gently 'walked' himself on down._

"_I must admit, the thought did cross my mind to leave you down here … for just a split second," Boyd finally spoke, as he scaled his way down with the agility of a cat, "but I would never do that to you. You're my friend."_

"_Thanks," Raylan said, helping Boyd ease all the way down. "I couldn't trust just anyone with this, either."_

_Raylan was never the demonstrative or communicative type when it came to his feelings. That was about as friendly as he was going to be._

_Once they were both down in the hole, Raylan illuminated the tunnel so they could figure out their next move. They walked further into the mine, took a turn left, and walked in another 20 paces._

"_This is good enough," Boyd finally said._

_They both stopped. He placed his bag down on the ground, unzipped it, and began rummaging for what he needed. He found the wiring he needed and unspooled a length and then, cut it with wire cutters. He placed the backpack full of money in the mine and attached one end of the wire to a metal fitting on the wall near the backpack. Next, he continued to unspool the wire until the walked the 20 paces back. Boyd then, pulled out an explosive device and hooked it up to the wire, and pulled the wire taut._

"_Hey," Raylan tried to get Boyd's attention. "We need the $25,000 to make the pot buy." Not getting an answer, he continued. "All the money's in the backpack, includin' what we need when we leave here."_

_Boyd, shook his head in frustration, mainly with himself. "Shit," he uttered. Then, he handed Raylan his bag of gear. "Go on back in there and pull 5 stacks out of the backpack." And then, he added, "Be careful!"_

_Doing what Boyd said, Raylan backtracked his steps, as Boyd illuminated his path with the flashlight. After he made it to the backpack, he opened both bags and transferred 5 stacks from the backpack into the Boyd's gear bag. As he closed the 2__nd__ bag, Raylan saw what looked to be a scorpion crawl over the back of his hand._

"_Ahhhh," he uttered and flung the insect away from him._

"_What's the matter?" Boyd asked._

"_Scorpion," Raylan answered._

"_It's probably not," Boyd answered back. "There's these bugs that look like scorpions, but they're not."_

_Scorpion or not, Raylan had been down in the mine long enough for one day. The damp, cool place was creeping him out, and all he wanted to do was to get topside. He grabbed the handle of the gear bag and tuned to leave, but in doing so, Raylan's shoe became tangled in the trip wire and BOOM!_

_Earth and debris in between Boyd and Raylan caved in._

"_Raylan! Raylan!" Boyd shouted, waiting for an answer._

"Raylan?" a feminine voice called, shaking the sleeping marshal by his shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Wha?" he opened his eyes, his head on his desk.

Disoriented, it took him a moment to take in his surroundings.

"You were callin' out to someone," the woman said.

It was Callie, the department receptionist.

Finally realizing where he was, he said, "I'm fine. I guess I just dozed off and had a bad dream."

"Well, just so you're okay," she said.

"Yeah, I am," he sat up. "Thank you for checkin' on me."

"Not a problem," the young lady said and left to go back to her desk.

As soon as she was out of earshot, shaken to the core, Raylan picked up his cell and began frantically punching in numbers into the phone.

Raylan's heart was pounding. He listened to his phone ring six or seven times before someone finally answered.

"This is Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens. I need to speak to Dr. Fried," he spoke into the receiver in a state of panic. "No, I need to speak to her, directly. Would you tell her it's urgent?"

The receptionist took Raylan's phone number and promised she'd get the message to Dr. Friend, right away. After a few moments, his cell phone rang. It was the doctor.

"Look, I know I don't have an appointment until next week," Raylan began, "but I need to talk with you … _now_."

"My last appointment of the day cancelled," Dr. Fried responded in an even tone. "I can see you at 5:30 p.m."

"Thanks," Raylan said. "I'll be there."

_Later that afternoon_

Raylan called Winona and told her he was going to have to work late, and promised her it was not in Harlan. She appreciated knowing that and then, changed the subject by asking him if he had talked to Art about speaking with Faylene. Raylan had completely spaced it, as he had more pressing things on his mind, although he didn't tell that part to Winona. Not wanting to concern her, he told her that Art was gone to a training all week and suggested that she call Faylene herself to get the wedding ball rolling. He thought that there was no reason to bring Winona into his disturbing dreams … something that he, himself, did not understand.

Raylan explained to her that he couldn't imagine Art taking his wife with him to a conference in Cheyenne, Wyoming. So, it was likely she could be home, maybe for the entire week. He convinced Winona to give it a shot and gave her Art's home phone number.

At 5:30, sharp, Raylan was welcomed into Dr. Fried's office. He took a seat, landing in the chair with a thud. He looked as tired as he felt. The good doctor promptly took her seat and grabbed his file and a pen.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked, noticing his bandaged hand.

"It's nothin'," he answered, "and has nothin' to do with why I'm here."

"You said you needed to see me, as soon as possible," she responded. "How about you start with telling me why you _are_ here?"

Raylan removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair, letting out a huge sigh.

"I can't sleep," he explained, "for the last two nights." "Every time I drift off, I have these horrible dreams."

"What kind of dreams?" she asked, making notes. "Can you tell me about them?"

Raylan leaned forward in his chair.

"This is confidential, isn't it?" he asked, in all sincerity. "Because if it's not, I need to find another therapist, stat."

Dr. Friend looked a little perplexed.

"I'm hired by the Marshal Service," she explained her loyalties. "I am also required to keep our sessions confidential; however, I am required by law to report anything that would injure the Service."

Raylan looked down and shook his head, grabbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"I don't know what the dreams mean," he said. Then, he looked up and locked eyes with her. "I said they were _disturbing_." After a pause, he continued, "Either the dreams mean something … _or_ … the fact that you and I have been talking about certain things triggered the dreams. How am I to know which one it is?"

Dr. Fried could understand Raylan's dilemma.

"I need to find out for sure," he went on, "but even more urgent, I have got to be able to sleep without wakin' up in a cold sweat. I'm so damn tired, I can barely function. I seriously have no business drivin' home tonight."

One look at the man told Dr. Fried he was speaking the truth. She noticed when he came in that he looked bad. His face was pale and gaunt. He had dark, puffy circles underneath his red, blood-shot eyes. In fact, he looked as if he had aged a good 10 years since the last time she saw him, only a few days before.

"Off the record, Mr. Givens," she finally spoke, "do these dreams have anything to do with Boyd Crowder?"

Raylan looked up at her with a look of astonishment. "How'd you know?"

"I didn't know for sure," she answered, "but it's not hard to connect dreams with the topic of your last session." After a beat, she added, "Do the dreams have anything to do with the aspect of _'survivor's guilt'_ we talked about?"

"You mean the aspect you talked about, and I rejected?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes … did I hit a nerve?" she answered his question with another question.

Raylan leaned even further forward and propped his elbows on top of his thighs. He then held this heavy head in his hands and closed his eyes.

"I don't know what to do," he said, "but I need to do something. The thought of me goin' home and havin' another one of these dreams …" The end of his sentence drifted off until he tilted his head to look up at her with a serious pleading in his eyes, "… I just can't."

Here sat this strong, stoic, at times cocky lawman in front of her, and he was close to the breaking point. She needed to proceed with caution.

She reached out and touched his arm. "You're obviously in the state of exhaustion, and I cannot hold you responsible for what you might say. You are not in a state of mind to know whether you should speak to me or not. And … you are correct. I may have brought this on, although I had no way of knowing exactly how you'd react."

Dr. Fried closed her file and placed it and the pen on the table next to her. This time, it was she who leaned forward.

"Let me throw some options out to you," she looked him in the eyes with compassion, a first for her with him. "If you can't trust me, and I can see why you may not, I can refer you to another therapist. If you need to speak to someone right away, I could get you over to the hospital and admit you, but it could very likely end up on your work record … depending on their diagnosis and the reason you are admitted."

He looked at her. None of these were good options.

"Or … you could speak to me … and we continue _off the record_," she offered. "No notes, no files. Completely confidential. It would give me an idea of how to proceed, and how to best help you." She paused a moment. "If it ever goes into an area where I can no longer proceed, I would tell you. You need to be able to trust someone."

"You have no idea," he said. "Alright, let me first tell you about the dream I had last night."

Raylan proceeded to tell her about the first dream, and the point where he woke up. He waited for her reaction.

"Okay," she nodded, indicating she carefully listened. "And what about the second night?"

He recounted the dream for her, feeling almost out of body as his mouth spoke the words.

When he was finished, Dr. Friend asked him, "How do you feel after telling me?"

He looked up at her. "Tired," he flatly said. "I'm so damn tired."

He leaned his head back into the chair and stared vacantly at the ceiling.

"Do you know what it's like to want to sleep so bad … but to be afraid of closin' your eyes?" he asked.

"I have some prescription samples here I could give you to try tonight to help you sleep," she said, as she stood up and went to her desk, where she opened the top drawer and grabbed a set of keys.

She then went over to a locked cabinet beside her desk and opened it. There were shelves stocked with drug samples. Then, she walked over to him and handed him a bubble package of pills. There were enough for several nights.

"Do you have any paid time off?" she asked.

"Plenty," he said. "I hardly ever take time off."

"Good, because these may make you groggy in the morning," she explained, "so plan on sleeping in. I suggest you call your boss, Art, tonight, and let him know you are being treated for insomnia and you need time off, as it will be necessary to adjust to the medication. Tell him if he has any questions, he can talk to me."

"Alright," he said.

"And I want to see you again tomorrow afternoon," she continued. "I have some time at 1:30." Then, she sat down so that she was back at his level. "I think that's enough talk for now. What you need most is some uninterrupted sleep."

Raylan sighed. "You won't get any argument from me."

Dr. Fried wrote down the appointment time on a card and handed it to him.

"About you being too groggy to drive home, you could leave your car here, if you can get a ride back tomorrow," she suggested. "Where do you live?"

"I'm about 15 minutes from here at this time of night," he answered.

Dr. Fried looks up at him. "I'd be happy to drive you home. Is your fiancée there?"

"Yeah, with the baby," he looked at her with questioning eyes that were full of panic. "But I don't want her to know anything about this until I know."

"Well, that's not going to work," she said. "While I understand why you don't want your workplace to know anything yet, that cannot be the case with the woman you are going to marry. You really do need to clue her in as to what is going on with you. I could come inside with you," she suggested. "We open the door with her on what is going on, give you the pills, and ask her to let you get some much needed sleep."

"But what if she …?" he looked panicked again.

"Remember what I said about how you need to trust someone?" the doctor asked. "You also need to trust your fiancée." After a beat, she added, "At some point, you need to tell her you're afraid she'll leave you if she finds out about these dreams … allow her the opportunity to be there for you. It's time to stop hiding, Raylan." Then, after a beat, she added, "But you don't have to have that discussion tonight."

Feeling as if he'd been outmaneuvered in a shootout, he finally relented. "Okay," he agreed, shaking his head, dreading the drive home.

_(To be continued …)_


	23. Chapter 23

Title: The Swear Jar 23/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

On the drive to Raylan's house, Dr. Fried suggested the marshal call his boss, before he arrived home and took the sleep medication. He did so from the passenger seat of her car. She noted the call seemed to go very smoothly, as she hoped it would. Raylan then called Winona to let her know that Dr. Fried was bringing him home. Understandably, she was concerned at hearing this and had questions. All he could do was to assure her he was okay and that they would arrive shortly.

Once there, he entered the house, followed by Dr. Fried, to find Winona rocking the baby in their den. Caitlyn had just drifted off to sleep.

"Let me put the baby down," Winona said, acknowledging the two of them. "I'll be right back."

She returned a few minutes later to find Raylan stretched out on the sofa and Dr. Fried seated in the chair across from him. She tapped the bottom Raylan's boots with her fingernails and, in response, he drew his legs in, making room for her to sit on the end of the sofa with him.

"I'm Carolyn Fried, Raylan's psychiatrist," the doctor introduced herself. "I work for the Marshal Service. You're Raylan's, fiancée, Winona?"

"That's right," Winona said softly. Looking at Raylan and with great impatience, she asked, "Raylan? What's going on?"

Now lying on his side, Raylan placed his hands over his eyes. He let out a burdened sigh and then, he moved his hands away from his face just long enough to look over at the doctor. "I can't do this tonight," he said, too weary to think or to speak.

The concern on Winona's face was very apparent, and she reached over and placed her hand protectively on his leg above his boot.

"Raylan's having trouble sleeping," Dr. Fried began to explain, "more so lately, because of some dreams he's been having … dreams he describes as _'disturbing'_."

"I know he had a bad dream the other night," Winona offered, somehow needing to prove to this woman that she was connected to her man.

"And another last night," the doctor continued, "and yet, another today … when he fell asleep at work from exhaustion. That's why I drove him home. Even he knew he had no business driving on the road."

Winona instinctively squeezed Raylan's leg even tighter, as her mind raced.

"Do these dreams have anything to do with the sessions you two have been having?" she asked. "Because that's when they started."

As a court reporter, Winona had transcribed enough expert witness testimony from enough shrinks to know a good many of them were full of shit. Therefore, her trust in therapists was not very high.

"Very likely," Dr. Fried responded. "He's hesitant to go to sleep for fear of having another one of these dreams … so much so that it prompted him to call me this afternoon … and I'm glad he did."

"Well? What do they mean?" Winona asked the doctor the obvious.

"First things first," the doctor was firm and in control. "I just gave him something to help him sleep tonight."

For the first time, Winona glanced at the coffee table and saw a half full glass of water and the foil remnants of a bubble pack of pills. Raylan must have taken the pills while she was putting the baby down.

"Would you call me if he has any problems on the medication?" Dr. Fried continued. "He should do fine, but this is the first time he's taking this particular medication, and one never knows."

"Watch for _what_?" Winona sounded snippy, impatient.

Winona was miffed at this woman. She didn't know Dr. Fried and didn't trust her, and she knew that Raylan hadn't known her very long, either.

The doctor fished a card out of her purse and handed it to Winona.

"Watch for _anything_ that concerns you," she responded. "He should sleep through the night and may be groggy in the morning. That's to be expected. But anything else you don't feel is normal for him, please call me, immediately." Then, after a beat, she added, "He called Art Mullens on the way here and informed him he's being treated for insomnia ... and that he needs some time off from work to adjust to the medication. His boss had no problem with the request."

"Well, no. Art wouldn't," Winona concurred. "He's always trying to get Raylan to take some time off."

Still, Winona did not look okay with what was happening, and Dr. Fried picked up on it.

"I know this isn't ideal … me bringing him home and offering him medication, but Raylan came in to see me at the end of the day to let me know he desperately needed to get some sleep," she offered. "It was either this … medication at home … or check him into a hospital. You know him well enough to know that hospitalization was not going to be an option."

"Uh, no," Winona shook her head. "Raylan would not want to go into the hospital."

"There one more thing," the doctor said. "I want to see him tomorrow afternoon at 1:30, after he's had some sleep and is rested. So long as it's okay with Raylan, you are welcome to join him in session. But even if it's not, I am encouraging him to trust you … and to trust me. This is something he has needed to deal with for a long time coming."

"I hear you," Winona said, "but exactly what is _it_ he needs to deal with?"

Sensing her frustration, Dr. Fried answered as best she could. "Raylan was in no shape this evening to talk to me. Dream analysis requires that he be able to participate. It's not something I can do without feedback from him. I hope to talk more, tomorrow."

"What do you mean? Dream analysis?" Winona asked with sarcasm in her voice. "Isn't that some kind of a parlor trick?"

Dr. Fried smiled. "Dreams come from our subconscious mind. They can be either flashback in nature, reflecting something that really did happen … or they can contain symbolism of something the conscious mind cannot deal with. Or they can be the mind's way to solve problems that can't be solved during conscious, waking hours. I need his feedback to determine which it is."

Winona looked over at Raylan, as his chest rose and fell. His eyes were closed and his breathing was nice and steady. Finally, he was sleeping, peacefully.

Tears began to well up in her blue eyes and a lump formed in her throat as Winona said, "We're about to be re-married. I've been through a lot of shit with him over the years." After a beat, she asked, "Is he going to be okay?"

Dr. Fried leaned forward in her chair. "While I can't be a hundred percent certain, I have a strong hunch that he's going to feel a whole lot better, a lot freer, when he's able to work through a few things. I do know the one thing he fears most is that you might not be able to handle him while he's going through this."

"He's afraid I'm going to leave him," Winona offered knowingly, under her breath. Then, she looked the doctor dead in the eye. "Well, of course I'm going be here for him," Winona insisted, sounding rather indignant.

"There's no right or wrong here. It doesn't matter if his fear of you leaving him is rational or not, deserved or not," the doctor countered, "or whether you've earned his fear or not."

Winona interrupted the good doctor. "Oh, trust me," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "I've definitely earned his fear … from my past behavior." Sheepishly, she looked up at the woman across the room. "I've left him, not once, but twice in the past."

She waited for the doctor to say something, but Dr. Fried did not.

Finally, Winona broke the silence.

"Raylan's changed a lot since Caitlyn was born," she continued. "He's more careful on the job. That was my biggest bone of contention with him … was him taking foolish chances with his life and his safety on the job. It's like, in the moment, he was so driven on the job that he wasn't considering anyone else … not even himself. But since the baby was born, he's been much, much better. He calls for backup; he wears his vest … He tries his best to stay out of Harlan."

Wetting her dry lips with her tongue, Winona confessed, "I promised him I'd never leave him again. We talked about it, at length, when he asked me to remarry him."

"Even so, it's the way he feels," Dr. Fried pointed out. "Right or wrong, you need to honor that."

As much as Winona had learned to distrust shrinks, she felt this woman was onto something. She put her fingers up to her mouth and nodded, "Okay."

"We're asking this strong, confident law man to open up … and be vulnerable," the doctor went on. "That's not who he is. This isn't going to be easy for him. What he needs from you is your support and your assurance, and reassurance, that you're not going anywhere. That will be of tremendous importance."

Winona nodded again. "I can do that."

After a beat, Dr. Fried continued, "I've thought for some time now that the marshal has been harboring some personal issues just below the surface. And I honestly believe that once he brings them forth to examine them in the light of day, he'll be a much less burdened man."

Intuitively feeling the doctor was again onto something, Winona said, "Honestly? I've thought the same."

_The following morning …_

It was almost 11 a.m. before Winona finally walked back into the bedroom to wake Raylan.

"Raylan, you need to wake up," she said near his face, shaking him by his shoulder. "You need to get showered and eat something before I take you to see Dr. Fried and pick up your car."

Raylan abruptly opened his eyes, not tracking where he was. The last thing he remembered was dozing off on the sofa, and he had no recollection of how he came to be in the bed.

"I've got a fresh pot of coffee brewing," she said. "I thought you could use some."

Slowly, he sat up in bed, looking more than a little lost.

"Are you okay to get up? Are you feeling okay?" Winona was a little concerned.

"Yeah," he nodded, answering with what felt like was cotton in his mouth. "I'm fine. Coffee sounds _real_ good."

Winona stood nearby to make certain he was okay to stand and walk. Other than moving a little slower than usual, he seemed to be fine. Raylan headed for the bathroom, as she returned to the kitchen and the baby. After a time, she ran back into the bedroom for a moment, until she heard the shower running.

"_Good,"_ she thought. _"He'll make his appointment."_

After some time had passed, he emerged into the kitchen, showered and dressed for the day. Winona handed him a cup of coffee.

"You want some toast or cereal? Or a sandwich?" she asked. "It's almost lunch time. You really should eat something."

"Yeah, some toast and peanut butter would be just fine," he answered, headed for the kitchen table, as he took a sip of the hot cup of Joe.

Cait was seated up on top of the table, and she smiled a big smile upon seeing her daddy's face. He smiled back at her and leaned down to give his baby a kiss on the top of her soft head, before taking a seat beside her.

"I went to see Faylene yesterday evening," Winona decided to lighten the mood. "We're going to get together again tomorrow. You were right … she is really excited to do this for us."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, taking a seat at the table. "I was worried you might want to postpone things … after last night."

Winona walked over behind his chair and wrapped her arms around him.

"Fat chance," she whispered in his ear. "You're stuck with me, and I'm stuck with you. So, get used to it."

"Stuck, huh?" he smiled and placed his hand over her forearms, relishing her touch.

She kissed the side of his face from behind. "Like glue. You and I are stuck together like glue. You and me and our babies."

"No matter what?" he asked. "I mean, this could be bad."

She knew he was referring to his dreams.

"Raylan," she pulled up a chair beside him and took a seat. "You're a good man. Whatever it is … if it's anything … is irrelevant today. You're living proof of that."

"God, I hope you're right," he sighed.

"Of course I am," she smiled a confident smile. "I'm sure of it."

Then, she leaned over and gave Raylan a kiss that started off as a peck on the lips and progressed to a lot of tongue. She could taste the coffee and cream and sugar in his mouth. Eyes closed, he put his arms around her and drew her in closer, deepening their kiss. As their breathing became heavier, his body instantly reacted to her touch, and hers to his. He frantically pulled her up on her feet, reached up the hem of her dress, and slid her panties down over her hips until they fell to the floor where she stepped out of them. He then, unbuckled his belt, as Winona worked to free him from his jeans. Her abdomen barely showing, Raylan was yet very aware of her condition, and he moved his chair away from the table so that she had room straddle him. Then, he held her hips and carefully, slowly lowered her, while he remained seated in the chair.

Their joined movements were deliciously slow and smooth. Breathing even more heavily, Winona let out a low pleasure moan, at the same time Raylan buried his face into the middle her covered breasts, where she could feel his hot breath through the cotton jersey of her dress. In less than a dozen strokes, they climbed to the summit and went over the edge, together, in a climactic release.

They clung to one another until their breathing returned to normal.

"I love you," Winona whispered, her arms wrapped around him.

"I love you, too," Raylan said from somewhere low in his throat.

He thought about what Winona had just said about always staying with him, no matter what. If only he could be so sure.

_(To be continued …)_


	24. Chapter 24

Title: The Swear Jar 24/X

Author: Romantique

Email: dolph1n

Classification: Raylan/Winona Family/General

Rating: T for language (but no worse than the show)

Summary: Raylan is a new dad. This one is a stand-alone, not a sequel to 'A Change of Scenery.'

Disclaimer: It's 'Justified' hiatus time, and I'm bored. This fic is based on nothing but my imagination and takes place sometime after the end of Season 3.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

_In route to Dr. Fried's office_

_The following day_

In the car, Raylan and Winona discussed her being present for the day's session. Raylan made a passionate argument that, because she was pregnant, he did not want her there in real time, hearing what

'_God only knew.' _

"I'm only tryin' to protect you, Caitlyn, and our unborn baby from a lot of upset that may be unnecessary," he tried to explain.

"You do realize that the _'not knowing'_ what is going on is stressful for me, too," she countered.

"I understand." Tight lipped, he nodded. "Look, I promise to include you in future sessions, and I won't shut you out," he said. "And I'll keep you apprised of everything that's goin' on. But to be honest with you? I wouldn't feel as free to talk about things, if you're in the room."

She flashed him a look of disbelief at what she was hearing. "Alright," she gave in, trying to sound convincing, even when she was not.

Winona did not like what she was hearing from him. She didn't understand where Raylan was coming from and suspected he didn't, either. But she also knew she had to accept what he was saying and be supportive. She agreed to drop him off at the court house and wait for him back at their house. Before he left the car, he reached over and cupped her hand around his face.

"I love you," he said, gazing deep into her eyes, "and I don't know what I'd do without you."

Then, he held her tightly around the back of her waist.

"I love you, too," she caught his gaze, "so much. You're _not_ going to have to find out what it's like to be without me and your kids," she said, and she leaned in and kissed him.

They sat there in the front seat, clinging to one another, in the midst of a deep soulful kiss. They both wished they could stay there, like that, forever.

When their lips finally parted, Winona swallowed hard and said, "If you're not too tired when you come home, I'd like to help you forget about everything … except _the now_."

Raylan smiled a wistful smile. "I'd like that."

Then, he changed the subject. "Aren't you meetin' with Faylene again?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "This afternoon."

"Good," he said. "Go plan us a pretty weddin'. I'll be home as soon as I can."

Giving her one last peck and a squeeze of the hand, Raylan finally stepped out of the car. He then opened the door to the backseat, leaned in and gave his baby girl kiss on the top of her head and a lingering pet on the side of her cherub face.

"You be a good for Momma," he said. "I love you."

After stepping back out of the car, he closed the door and waved goodbye from the curb. After Winona had driven off out of view, he began the long walk to Dr. Fried's office. Arriving a few minutes early, he took a seat in the waiting area. He was aware that he was a little down, a little flat this afternoon, probably the effects of the pill he took the night before. He had to admit they did the trick. It was the best night of sleep he'd had in … a very long time.

Finally, a young woman emerged from the doctor's office, followed shortly thereafter by the good doctor.

"Come on in," she said.

Raylan couldn't help but notice how her tone had changed with him, from one of professional coolness to one of compassion. He took a seat, the same one he always took. It was fast becoming _'his'_ seat.

"How did the medication work for you?" she asked.

"Like a charm," he said.

"Any weird side effects?" she continued with her due diligence.

He crossed his legs and then his arms, "No," I feel fine." He downplayed the minor after effects he was feeling … nothing compared to the crushing exhaustion he had experienced, only the day before.

Dr. Fried took a seat.

"Then, why are you closing yourself off?" she asked.

Raylan screwed up his face. "Pardon me?" he asked in a defensive tone.

"Look at you," she pointed to him. "Your body language is all closed off. You weren't this way when you came here last night. That is not a criticism, Raylan. It is an observation." After a beat, she asked, "It is still okay to call you Raylan, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, self-consciously uncrossing his legs and his arms. "And what do I call you?"

"What do you want to call me?" she asked. "What makes you the most comfortable in being able to feel trusting and approachable with me?"

"A couple of shots of bourbon," Raylan laughed in an attempt to break the tension, "but I guess that's not in the _'Shrink's Rule Book.'_" He laughed at his own joke and finally said, "I'd like to call you Carolyn."

"Carolyn it is," she replied, sitting very relaxed her chair … with no file, no notes … no pen, as promised.

"Are you ready to talk about Boyd Crowder, and the way he intrudes into your dreams?" she asked, hitting the nail on the head.

"Intrudes," he nodded with his jaw set firm. "That's exactly what he does. In the dreams, it's always like he likes me a whole lot better than I like him."

"And does that also hold true in real life?" she asked.

He thought for a moment. "Yeah, that's always been true."

"I recall from listening to you yesterday, that in your dreams, you two are very smart, very capable … evenly matched, so to speak," she continued.

Raylan thought for a moment. "He has different skill sets than I do. So, I guess in some ways … we are evenly matched. He can be quite intelligent, quite brave, and he's physically nimble."

"As are you?" she tilted her head.

"Yeah, pretty much," he said, "although what's _most_ disturbing to me is how the whole stealin' money to make even more money, in an illegal fashion, was _my idea_ in the dream."

"And that would make you no better than Boyd?" she asked, raising her eyebrows with her question.

"Exactly," he said.

"Which we know not to be true," she continued, she finished his sentence for him.

"Carolyn," Raylan took in a deep breath, "something came to me this mornin'. When that cave in happened, in the dream, I had a cut across the top of my hand and one on my temple. Just like the ones I have here … and here." And he proceeded to show her his scars.

Without a change of expression, Dr. Fried took in a deep breath. They were getting close to something deep … she could feel it.

"Do you think it's possible that cave in really did happen?" she asked.

Raylan shook his head, "I dunno. I have no memory of it, but in the dream, it seemed so real."

"Just for arguments sake, to have a good debate, let's assume the dreams _are_ real," she began. "Would you like to know what I see?"

"Yes, _please_," he pleaded, his eyes suddenly widened. He was tired of playing these psycho games.

She began. "In your dreams, you are the master mind, a kid trying to claim his place in Harlan. You also want to remove any dominance that Arlo has over you. And yes, you and Boyd have very similar backgrounds. You each have dominant, overbearing, abusive fathers. You both grew up very confused and very angry about that."

Raylan looked down. "Maybe," he said.

"At that time when the dreams _could have happened_, what was going on in your life?" she asked.

"It was about the time my Aunt Helen gave me a big wad of cash on the condition I leave Harlan and never come back," he remembered, as if it was yesterday. "She told me to go out into the world and make somethin' of myself and to be a better man than Arlo."

Dr. Friend nodded with a little smile on her face. "I would say you did exactly as your aunt told you to do … much to your credit."

"So, I'm told," Raylan nodded.

"Where did Helen get the money to give to you?" she asked, abruptly steering the subject.

"From Arlo," he quickly answered, "no doubt."

"Did Arlo give her the money to give to you?" she continued digging a little deeper.

"Oh, hell no," Raylan scoffed. "She must have stolen it from him."

"You never thought to ask her from where the money came?" Dr. Fried continued.

Thinking for a minute, he finally said, "I guess I always knew she stole it. That's how things were done in Arlo's house … and in Harlan."

Dr. Fried shifted her weight in her chair. "I have another question for you," she shifted directions. "Why was your aunt so anxious for you to leave at that particular time?"

"She wanted me to get outta Harlan before I got in trouble or even killed," he answered the obvious.

"Right," she continued, "but why _then_? Why not before or after? Why did she want you to leave … on _that very day_?"

Raylan closed his eyes and brought himself back to that sunny morning in his aunt's kitchen. He remembered the smell of the biscuits she made especially for him and the cold fried chicken, carefully placed with napkins in a paper bag next to a navy blue duffle bag full of his clothes and other belongings. And inside the duffle bag, there was a big envelope full of money … cash … and there was a lot of it.

"What happened on _that day_?" Dr. Friend gently prodded.

Raylan's face suddenly became very stoic, and his eyes became very large. "She got the money the same place I did," he paused. "She stole it from Arlo," he blurted out. "Only she didn't know I did it, too."

He let out a measured sigh of disappointment … in himself … in his Aunt Helen.

"She told me that some big money had been stolen from Arlo, and she was afraid he would blame me and kill me if I was around … and he was drinkin'," he remembered as clear as a bell, "which was a safe bet because Arlo would blame me for everything while I lived in my father's house, and he was always drinkin'."

The doctor said nothing and listened. She noted that Raylan referred to his family home as _his father's_ _house_, giving her even more insight of his relationship with his father.

"She admitted what she did and told me not to worry and said it was to remain our secret. And then, I asked … what about her? And she told me she wasn't worried about herself because she was gonna blame it on the Bennetts. Arlo had enough hatred for them he would probably blame them before she did. And in fact, he did find the money missin' and blamed it on the Bennetts."

Again, the doctor noted Raylan's used of the word _'told'_ when speaking about his aunt, denoting a respect for the woman, because Raylan did not strike her as the kind of person who was _'told_' anything.

"Are you okay with that?" the doctor asked. "That the Bennetts were blamed for what _you did_?"

"For what Aunt Helen did?" Raylan thought for less than a moment. "I'll sleep just fine with that part of it."

Then, he proceeded to tell Dr. Fried the story about the Bennett clan and their one hundred year feud with the Givens clan … and how the only one left of the Bennett clan, beyond Doyle's wife and kids who had since moved far, far away … was Dickie Bennett. He explained that Dickie would remain in prison for a long, long time.

Dr. Fried might have thought Raylan's colorful tale was a bit on the _'tall'_ side, had she not remembered following a two-part expose written in the newspaper about the Bennett clan and their 100 year feud, at the time Dickie Bennett's last conviction. She distinctly remembered learning about the existence of this modern day, _'Hatfields and the McCoys'_ type feud to be fascinating. And sitting here before her was one of the actual members of the Givens clan.

Refocussing her efforts, she astutely asked him, "And with what part of it will you _not sleep_ just fine?"

Raylan was taken aback by the directness of her question. It was a direct hit.

"I can't believe," he leaned forward on his elbows, "I can't believe … that the only thing that kept me from leadin' a life of crime was a loss of memory caused by an injury that was of my own makin'."

He turned his head and looked up at her. "I really mean that," he went on. "I can't believe it."

Dr. Fried finally offered, "You need evidence … proof."

The marshal slowly sat up to an upright position in his chair. The good doctor was right. The season law enforcement officer he was, he absolutely required proof.

_(To be continued …)_


End file.
